


Once in a Golden Hour

by uwontfeelathing



Series: His and Mine are the Same [2]
Category: Anne of Green Gables (TV 1985) & Related Fandoms, Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery, Anne with an E (TV), L.M. Montgomery's Anne of Green Gables (2016)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hardcore makeout sessions, Idiots in Love, Kissing, Long-Distance Relationship, Love Letters, Romance, Sexual Harassment, Shirbert, So much kissing, Young Love, no seriously, there is so much consensual making out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:41:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 47,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22340464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uwontfeelathing/pseuds/uwontfeelathing
Summary: Part II in the "His and Mine are the Same" series.*****"Gilbert Blythe rested his forehead against the fog-covered window pane - hoping to be able to peer through the condensation within and sleeting snow without to glimpse the dark shape of the platform he knew was ahead. Every chug of the train beneath him felt like the pounding of his heart, his thoughts beating out the same rhythm in his head: Anne. Anne. Anne. Anne.It had been more than four months since he had seen her, and their last meeting still felt as dream-like and unbelievable to him as it had on the very day he had raced through the streets of Charlottetown, the same rhythm pulsing in his veins then, as it was now. Anne. Anne. Anne.The small, black velvet bag in his coat pocket felt as heavy as a brick, aware of it as he was of the unwavering direction of his every thought..."*****(Part I is called "Whatever our Souls are Made Of")The title of this work and chapter comes from the Tennyson poem "The Flower".
Relationships: Gilbert Blythe & Anne Shirley, Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley
Series: His and Mine are the Same [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1608142
Comments: 807
Kudos: 855





	1. A Crown of Light

Anne Shirley-Cuthbert had never felt quite this nervous in all her life. 

Not when, at age thirteen, she had boarded a train from Nova Scotia to Prince Edward Island to meet her new family. Not when she had carefully dressed and plaited her hair in the hopes of meeting her first-ever friend in Avonlea. Not even when she had sat for the Queen’s entrance examination earlier this year. Her future had never felt more tangible as it did here and now - waiting on a snow-covered train platform in the deepening twilight of a beautiful winter’s day. 

A biting wind blew across the platform in another strong gust, sending large, wet snowflakes flying diagonally across the open expanse. Anne turned her head into the gale, squinting her eyes nearly-shut to keep out the snow while hoping to catch sight of a puff of steam or glint of steel in the distance. 

Her braids flew out behind her shoulders - two long tails of golden red, woven carefully and purposefully as a nod to the boy whose arrival she so eagerly awaited. As she had pulled her braids over her shoulders and took one last look in the mirror in her bedroom at Blackmore House earlier today, she had remembered the long ago afternoon when the boy - her future - had reached out, pulled once, hard, at her plait, demanding her attention. 

She had ignored him for as long as she could - had run from every desire she had ever felt pulling her toward him - until she could no longer keep herself in the dark. Now for the past few months, she had basked in the light of loving him - being loved by him - and she felt instinctively that the sun would never fully set on her again. Not even the long separation they had endured - had yet to endure - could keep her from feeling the warm glow of being loved by this one,  _ only  _ boy. 

A long, high whistle sounded in the distance, making Anne’s heartbeat jump erratically. The snow continued to fall in heavy, brilliant curtains, limiting her vision, but underfoot she felt the rumble of the approaching train. 

_____

Gilbert Blythe rested his forehead against the fog-covered window pane - hoping to be able to peer through the condensation within and sleeting snow without to glimpse the dark shape of the platform he knew was ahead. Every  _ chug _ of the train beneath him felt like the pounding of his heart, his thoughts beating out the same rhythm in his head:  _ Anne. Anne. Anne. Anne.  _

It had been more than four months since he had seen her, and their last meeting still felt as dream-like and unbelievable to him as it had on the very day he had raced through the streets of Charlottetown, the same rhythm pulsing in his veins then, as it was now.  _ Anne. Anne. Anne.  _

The small, black velvet bag in his coat pocket felt as heavy as a brick, aware of it as he was of the unwavering direction of his every thought. He had spent the last four months working tirelessly - studying and writing and memorizing and reading everything he could, trying to distinguish himself from amongst his cohort, all of them new medical students at the University of Toronto. His drive and ambition were not connected to his desire for the girl with fiery red hair ahead, but somehow he felt more driven now that he had won her love than he ever had been before. Driven to become the best in his field - to follow his passions like she followed hers. 

He would follow her anywhere. 

The train began to slow, the  _ chug _ s growing longer and further apart as they approached Charlottetown Station. Outside of his window, visibility had not improved. In fact, the snow seemed to fall more thickly than before, the world around him turned an almost-blinding white. White like her skin, with dark freckles of land and buildings just visible. The sky was no longer the blue of her eyes, but had turned the golden red of sunset of her long, shining hair. 

Gilbert could not bring himself to care about the weather or the destination or the weeks of home and family and rest ahead of him. He was here - he had made it home to her - and nothing else mattered. 

_______

Anne waited with bated breath, trying to breathe deeply and calm her thundering heart. 

_ It was all real. It was not a dream. Those letters, his words - it was all real. He is here. Here for you.  _ She repeated the words in lieu of pinches to her inner-arm, having the foresight for once to avoid bruising her delicate skin there. 

Distracted as she was, she didn’t notice that the drifts of snow falling around her had become a deluge of heavy white flakes, blanketing both sky and ground. Anne craned her neck to instead look down the line of the train, hoping that she would be the first to spot Gilbert’s tall frame and soft curls above the throng of passengers busy disembarking. She stood on tiptoe, the better to see around the bodies wrapped in thick winter layers milling about her. 

She felt the light touch of a finger on her shoulder, and whipped her head around quickly, nearly falling as she swiftly reversed the direction of her body on the narrow perch of her toes. Two warm, ungloved hands reached out to grip her elbows, steadying her.

Anne’s heart gave a kick and seemed to rise into her throat as her wide, blue eyes rose to meet his smiling gaze, his eyes the exact color of chocolate caramels. The sudden memory of the first candy she had ever eaten - during a rare outing from the orphanage two years before she had found her home at Green Gables - washed over her in a warm wave of pleasure, comforting and exhilarating. 

He had told her that  _ his _ would be the eyes with hunger in them - a line from his latest missive that had made her laugh out loud in surprise and delight - and, here and now, she felt the sudden urge to laugh rise up in her once more. 

_____

Gilbert watched in wonder as Anne’s wide, fathomless eyes met and held his, and then, just a moment later, he sensed more than saw her soft, pink lips spread wide and split into a laughing grin. Gaze never leaving hers, he felt his own lips break out into a wide smile, a tide of emotions crashing in his chest and drowning out all thoughts. 

He had imagined holding her close to him when they met, or even bucking propriety entirely (thus risking the wrath of their nearby travelers) and sweeping her into his arms for a long, passionate kiss, but he had never dreamed up the possibility of his just standing there, inches away from the object of his every desire, hands gripping her elbows, grinning mutely at her. 

He didn’t want to move or speak, didn’t want to do anything but stand there and drink her in, but he couldn’t help but to breathe out a word - the one word that had kept time to his heartbeat as a pounding in his head; had driven him forward day after day for these long months - just once out loud. 

“Anne,” he laughed out softly, his eyes never once leaving hers. 

Her smile grew wider, warmer, and she didn’t break their eye contact, either; she only moved to open her mouth slightly, breathing out in a puff of white steam. 

“Hi.” 

Their reunion, uneventful by all outward appearances, yet incredibly significant to the two who stood wordlessly in an expectant bubble of light and happiness, was interrupted by the loud voice of the train conductor, standing nearby on the train platform and raising his voice to its fullest, causing both of them to jump slightly. 

“Ladies and Gentleman! Canadian Railway Systems have announced the closure of all train lines until further notice due to winter white-out conditions! The next eastbound train is expected to leave tomorrow morning at 10am! Please remove all personal items from the train! You may claim your cases and trunks at the aft end of the train! Thank you for your attention!” 

Anne and Gilbert, who had turned in unison to look at the shouting conductor, now turned back to one another, eyes wide. Gilbert’s mind was completely blank the moment his eyes locked back onto Anne’s. Well, perhaps not  _ blank _ so much as  _ distracted _ from his previous, split-second thought:  _ Where am I going to stay tonight? _

_____

Anne had made the quarter-mile journey to the Charlottetown train station for the past three days in a row - first on Wednesday, when she and Diana had accompanied Mrs. Blackmore, their caretaker here in Charlottetown and owner of Blackmore House, as she prepared to journey southeast to Montreal to spend Christmas with her daughter’s family there; then on Thursday, when she had accompanied her housemates - Diana, Ruby, Tillie, Josie, and Jane - to catch their train home to Avonlea; and once more for her own journey home today. 

Diana had offered to stay in Charlottetown an extra day with Anne, but Anne had had the feeling that, though she would be lonely in the big, chilly house with only Lily for company, she would regret losing the opportunity to travel home the next day with Gilbert: to be alone together before arriving in the midst of the chaos and curiosity of Christmastime in Avonlea, even if just for an hour. 

Later, as she left the train station side-by-side with Gilbert in the blowing snow, Anne had the sinking feeling that she would feel a lot less conflicted had she taken Diana up on her generous offer. After all, were Diana still in Charlottetown, Anne would doubtless be walking Gilbert to Aunt Josephine’s house at the present moment, ready to beg the use of one of her many guest rooms for the night until they could catch their belated train home in the morning. If Anne had a roommate - or any housemate, really, with the full use of their hearing (with which one might ferret out the presence of an illicit visitor in the house) to come home to, she would not be experiencing the hot, roiling mixture of anticipation and guilt bubbling away in the pit of her stomach. 

_____

Anne and Gilbert’s interaction following the announcement of the train’s conductor had, of necessity, transformed into something almost businesslike as they walked together towards the end of the train to retrieve Gilbert’s small trunk.

Having secured his baggage, Anne heard herself inform Gilbert of the ample space available at Blackmore House, explaining to his shoes with an anxious, rambling note to her voice that, were he to accompany her to her nearby home, she was sure she could sneak him up to a bedroom there, thus preventing their needing to walk across town to Aunt Josephine’s house and put her out with an extra guest during this busy holiday season. He wouldn’t bother anyone at Blackmore House, and it would be easier to get there in all of this wet, blowing snow. If he didn’t mind. Would he like to? 

When Anne didn’t receive a response after her breathless monologue, she inhaled deeply and forced her eyes from the ground to meet her companion’s. She found him smirking down at her, one eyebrow raised. She couldn’t help herself - she burst into a light, self-conscious peal of laughter that filled Gilbert’s chest with warmth. 

“Don’t look at me like that, Doctor Blythe. I am not suggesting anything untoward, really. Just a practical solution to our current predicament. Besides… it would be a shame to waste this sudden opportunity to spend time… catching up… together by putting distance between us again.” Anne’s smiling voice belied the nervousness that was writhing in her torso like a live snake. She was much more afraid of his refusing her proposal than she was of her suggested housing arrangement flying directly in the face of societal propriety. 

Gilbert didn’t answer her for another long, painful beat of her heart. 

Then, at last, he reached out to her with his elbow, inviting her to place her arm through his. He smiled softly at her; eyes turning molten, despite the snow swirling around them, as he opened his mouth to speak. 

“Lead the way home.” 


	2. Half the Night I Waste in Sighs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *****  
> Gilbert was nowhere to be seen, so she called out quietly, “Gil?”
> 
> It was the first time she had used this nickname - endearment, really - out loud, and her heart thrilled. She wasn’t afraid. She knew this boy - loved him with all that was in her. Suddenly Anne couldn’t believe her luck at this gift that had been dropped into her lap. An entire night to be alone with Gilbert Blythe - it was more than she ever could have hoped for their brief Christmas holiday together. 
> 
> At her call, a dark brown mop of hair appeared from behind her bed, followed by a forehead, eyebrows, and two bright, smiling eyes. Anne laughed softly at the sight of him peeking up at her. 
> 
> By the time he had stood up, she was upon him.  
> *****

They walked close together - her arm through his, both of his hands gripping his small trunk with her suitcase balanced on top - as the world around them mimicked the inside of a snow globe after a particularly violent shaking. Anne led the way through the mostly-empty streets of Charlottetown, and they passed row after row of shuttered businesses and darkened windows as night fell. 

Gilbert was grateful to be occupied in every sense - Anne’s steps guiding his own; her lips moving in a constant stream as she told him about life in Charlottetown, about classes and professors and friends, all with a heightened, nervous energy to her voice that he recognized from years of watching her talk herself in circles when she didn’t quite know what to say; his arms growing tired with the weight of their baggage. 

He acknowledged all of this - his surroundings and occupations - with the smallest corner of his brain. The greater portion of his mind remained stubbornly occupied on his companion, herself. Instead of making intelligent conversation or otherwise engaging with his partner, his mind was engrossed in the movement of Anne’s hands as she gestured about her, in the contrast of her pink lips against the blindingly white flakes falling all around, in the way her smooth, bare neck sloped out of the collar of her jacket, in his desire to cup his hand around it and pull her close to him. 

It was because of the ignoble direction of Gilbert Blythe’s mind that he immediately noticed the small goosebumps which appeared along her neck as they were pelted with a particularly punishing gust of sleeting wind. Without thinking, Gilbert stopped in his tracks to set down his load and remove the warm, black scarf from around his neck. 

_____

Anne paused suddenly, one step ahead of Gilbert, not having been forewarned of their sudden standstill. Her arm had come free from the crook of his elbow in the confusion, and she turned back to look at him with a question on her lips. When Gilbert stepped toward her, however, she fell silent. Anne did not look down at the object in his hands then, but up, into his deep brown eyes as he reached around her neck and knotted his scarf once just under her chin, then pulled her coat collar up high as a shield against the blowing snow. 

Their gaze held, and Anne was suddenly reminded of a moment, years before, when she had happened upon Gilbert Blythe on this very street, once again mere days before Christmas, and they had called a truce on their previously tumultuous relationship. Then, like now, she had been unable to look away from the pull of his eyes on hers. The differences between their remembered meeting and this moment were slight:  _ then  _ they had been surrounded by passers-by; and  _ then _ she had been able to convince herself that she wasn’t sure why the pit of her stomach suddenly felt like she had been filled with molten lava and her hands longed to touch his face, just once, when his eyes lingered on hers.

Now, having lived with similar desires bubbling away in her stomach with varying degrees of intensity for the past six months, she understood exactly why she felt heat rise within her as his gaze lingered on hers.

Now, they were completely alone. And he loved her.

He loved her. 

This knowledge, simple but staggering, somehow kept Anne’s feet rooted to the spot, like she had been planted there in the sidewalk, even as her galloping heart urged her forward where it longed to be, nestled close to his. 

_____

Completely unaware that her thoughts at that moment mirrored his exactly, Gilbert had just raised one foot to step toward Anne - to close the gap between them and envelop her in his arms, to kiss the lips that had been the last thing he had thought about each and every night in the small bedroom of his Toronto boarding house - when a large, wet pile of snow slid off of the angled roof nearby and landed with a loud  _ splat  _ on the ground, causing both of them to jump backward. 

Gilbert bent down reflexively to brush off the top of Anne’s brown leather suitcase, while she forced a chuckle and resumed her light chatter - this time about what a cold and snowy winter they were having this year. He didn’t mind the interruption for the moment, reminding himself with an inward grin that she was anxious not to be parted from him, either - that they were headed to her boarding house so they could spend this one, unanticipated night alone together. He longed to get to their destination, not just to get out of his wet socks and shoes, but to come to the place he had been so many times before, if only in his dreams. 

_____

As they approached her street, Anne began to tell Gilbert the plan for getting him inside without the housemaid at Blackmore, Lily, being made aware of his presence. Anne adored Lily - loved speaking with her in broken (on Anne’s part alone) sign language of their upbringings and adventures. Lily had an incredible past, and was, in every way, a kindred spirit with Anne - fierce, independent, loyal, forgiving, and relentlessly kind. Sorrow and loneliness had not hardened Lily against the world, and Anne was once again grateful that there were far more kindred spirits in the world than she ever could have suspected as the outcast, unloved orphan she had once been. 

“Lily is a dear, but Mrs. Blackmore is  _ quite _ strict, and I know that she would never be okay with… well, anyway, it will all be well and good. I’ll go inside and speak with Lily while you wait nearby, and then I will open the front door and usher you upstairs once I am certain that she is otherwise occupied. We needn’t take care to be quiet, necessarily, but we should be careful not to slam any doors, as Lily is sensitive to the vibrations.” Anne glanced up to look at her companion, finding herself quite breathless as she finished her speech, and sure that she would not be able to hear Gilbert’s response over the rushing sound in her ears. Was that the wind, or did it have anything to do with the erratic pounding of her heart in her chest? 

Maddeningly, Gilbert just smirked down at her, which did absolutely nothing to soothe her nerves, nodding once. 

_____

As Anne approached the porch steps, Gilbert waited out of sight of the front door. He listened breathlessly as Anne knocked and was admitted; there was no sound of voices, but he simply heard the door open and then close. 

Suddenly Gilbert found himself marveling at the idea of a silent world. He began thinking through what few diagnoses he knew about that would explain one being born deaf, flipping through his mental index of medical knowledge from a long-established habit instead of giving into worrying about his immediate future as a stowaway in a girls' boarding house.

_____

Anne greeted Lily with a pained expression, and gestured to her suitcase and the wet hem of her dress as she signed out as best she could a brief explanation of what she was still doing in Charlottetown. 

_ Oh my heavens!  _ Lily exclaimed with her hands.  _ You must be frozen to the bone. Tell me, where is the friend you were meeting at the station?  _

Anne was prepared for this question, having told Lily much about her handsome suitor.  _ He is with an acquaintance close by. We will meet tomorrow for the 10 o’clock train if the storm has passed and the line is clear.  _

Lily nodded, gesturing for Anne to remove her shoes.  _ I will make you a hot cup of tea, and then we can resume our game of Euchre if you wish?  _

Anne stretched her face into a grimace and signed,  _ I would love some tea, my friend, but I am afraid the journey through the storm has exhausted me. Would you mind if I took my tea and then went to bed?  _

Lily nodded again, sympathetic understanding shining out of her dark brown eyes. She turned toward the kitchen at the back of the house, and Anne crept quietly back toward the front door in her sock feet. 

_____

Gilbert heard the door open once more, and he quickly bent down to retrieve his trunk and began to ascend the porch steps. Anne was standing there in the doorway - shoes off, eyes bright - and he very suddenly nearly lost his nerve. 

What  _ was  _ it about his girl that  _ completely  _ upended him? Just when he thought he had a handle on the way he loved her - how it moved through his body like electricity, lighting up parts of him that he didn’t know were in the dark, enlivening every nerve ending, sparking dangerously; a warning and an invitation that her very presence had the power to set everything known and comfortable in his life ablaze - she would turn around, give him a look, write a word, and he was undone. Recalling, in his split-second hesitation, all of the times he had seen Anne face down fear and foe with brave determination, Gilbert’s stride remained unbroken as he took a deep breath, borrowing her courage and hurrying himself inside. 

Anne quickly put her lips as close to his ear as she could reach on tip-toe and whispered, “Up these stairs - third bedroom on the left-hand side. I’ll be there soon.” 

Gilbert ascended the stairs quickly, and soon found himself closing himself inside of Anne’s bedroom. Setting his trunk by the door, Gilbert took a cursory look around and found two small, neat beds, two desks - one of which had been pushed against two corner windows which looked down onto the front courtyard of the house, a tall mirror, and two tall wardrobe cabinets. 

Gilbert did not have to wonder which bed was Anne’s - he recognized on it her white embroidered pillow from Green Gables. He wandered toward her side of the room, noting the tidiness of her made bed; the relative chaos of her desk, which was decorated with dried flowers and a few knick-knacks, many of which he had first seen on her dressing table at Green Gables; and her crowded nightstand, which was piled high with four leather-bound novels. He felt certain that she had more books packed in her bag for the Christmas holiday, heavy as that bag was, and that thought brought a smile to his lips. 

He had just sat down on the edge of her bed, reaching out for the topmost book in her stack, when he heard footsteps approaching. Suddenly unsure of Anne’s success in shaking off the housemaid, Gilbert dropped down to the floor, effectively hiding himself from the doorway. His heart pounded in his ears as he heard the door open, then close, and approaching footsteps.

_____

Anne thanked Lily again for the small repast, and headed up the stairs to her bedroom, having snuck a small pie and a few cookies from her tea with Lily into the pocket of her dress. 

She was fairly certain that Lily would not come up to check on her this evening - the maid’s quarters were on the main floor of the house, and Lily was used to giving the students plenty of space to study and rest as they saw fit. But still, Anne wondered at her own nerve - bringing a boy to stay at Blackmore House?! And in  _ her room _ ?! 

Anne remembered the only other time she had shared a bedroom with a boy overnight, when Jerry had asked if he could bunk with her for the night while they were staying in Aunt Jo’s intimidating manor, but that had been nothing - Jerry was like her brother! Gilbert, however, was most definitely nothing like a brother to her… 

A knot began to form in the pit of her stomach. Having successfully pulled off the heist portion of the evening, Anne was now forced to come face-to-face with the consequences of her hasty invitation -- she was currently ascending the stairs to her bedroom where Gilbert Blythe, the love of her life and the person who made her feel as though she could float away and never return to earth on the slightest draft, was waiting for her. 

Pausing to take a deep, calming breath with her hand on the doorknob, Anne entered her bedroom. 

Gilbert was nowhere to be seen, so she called out quietly, “Gil?”

It was the first time she had used this nickname -  _ endearment _ , really - out loud, and her heart thrilled. She wasn’t afraid. She knew this boy -  _ loved _ him with all that was in her. Suddenly Anne couldn’t believe her luck at this gift that had been dropped into her lap. An entire night to be alone with Gilbert Blythe - it was more than she ever could have hoped for their brief Christmas holiday together. 

At her call, a dark brown mop of hair appeared from behind her bed, followed by a forehead, eyebrows, and two bright, smiling eyes. Anne laughed softly at the sight of him peeking up at her. 

By the time he had stood up, she was upon him. 

_____

Gilbert barely had time to stand upright before Anne’s body crashed into his, her arms winding around his neck, hands in his hair, lips upon his. Gilbert staggered one step backward, bumping into Anne’s bedside table and toppling her books to the floor. 

He froze, but only for the merest of seconds, and then his body caught up to where his mind had been for the past hour - the past four months, really - and he responded in kind: arms reaching out to encircle her torso, hands gripping her waist to steady them both and press her body closer to his. With his eyes shut tight and no space at all between him and the girl he loved, Gilbert’s capacity for thought ceased - his mind ceded control to his body; to feeling everything about this moment. 

And Gilbert felt all of it - the plump softness of her lips pressed against his; the rapid rhythm of her heart pounding against his torso; the movement of her chest, rising and falling with each breath; her fingers running tenderly through his hair, and then the tightening of her grip as she pulled him ever closer to her. She kissed him harder then, as if she was trying to press months worth of kisses onto his mouth in the space of this moment. 

He was more than willing to let her try. A small, involuntary sound of pleasure escaped from him as their mouths opened and Anne bit softly at his lower lip. Gilbert’s arms wound tighter around her waist as he moved forward, backing her toward her desk - the desk where she had written him all of those beautiful, intimate letters. He lifted her slightly, setting her atop the desk’s writing surface without breaking their kiss, putting space between their bodies once more. 

Without her chest pressed against his, her heartbeat pounding against his, Gilbert found that his brain was able to function once more, if only a small part of it. He suddenly was flooded with the knowledge of how very much he cherished this girl, and how very, very alone they currently were. A warning arose in his mind, sharp and biting:  _ Don’t wake up tomorrow with any cause for regret. _

He began to slow their kisses, pressing his forehead gently into hers and trying to slow his rapid breathing. 

Anne, too, seemed slightly dazed and quite out of breath. She opened her fiery eyes to look into his, so up close and brilliant that he found himself trying not to blink. He could stare at her like this - up close, their breath mingling - for hours and never grow tired. 

“Gil,” she whispered after a prolonged moment, her voice lower and softer than its usual peal. “I’m sorry, I --” 

“Shhh,” Gilbert whispered back, a smile playing on his lips. “Don’t apologize. I just wanted to ask you...” he paused, a wicked glint in his eyes. “...how Geometry is going?” 

Anne’s face broke open in a wide, conspiratorial grin. And then she reached out for the lapels of his shirt and pulled his lips back down to hers. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I SWEAR ON MY LIFE that next time these two will have an ACTUAL conversation. Seriously. Promise. 
> 
> But a girl has her priorities, and kissin' is at the verrrrry top of my (everyone's) list, so... I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it! Please keep sending me writing fuel and laughs and so many great, happy feels - I swear I want to actually live in the comments section of all of these chapters - you all are just so warm and kind and wonderful! I appreciate you. 
> 
> As always, I hope this finds you well, and THANK YOU for reading! 
> 
> Lots of love and SQUEEs,   
> M
> 
> PS Chapter title from Tennyson's poem "Maud part two"


	3. Night was Come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *****  
> All he felt he could adequately convey at the moment was the thought that wouldn’t leave him alone: the bed. 
> 
> “Gilbert Blythe, please stop looking at me like that, or I will be forced to kiss you again, and it would be a real shame if you passed out from hunger and exhaustion before we had the chance to exchange any coherent words this evening,” Anne laughed softly, brushing her thumb along his bottom lip, her eyes twinkling.  
> *****

_Cherished._

Anne had spent the past twenty minutes trying to name the new, delicious feeling coursing through her. In order to do so, however, she had to use the few brain cells weren’t currently concentrated in the feel of her lips on his; or her fingertips in his hair, on his face, gripping his shoulders. 

She also had to sort this new feeling from all of the others she was currently experiencing: Love - which felt like laying in the cool grass with the sun shining down on bare skin; eyes closed, arms wide, joy and warmth and contentment and beauty holding equal space all at once. Lust - a hot, aching, reaching feeling that was never satisfied, but deeply satisfying somehow. Wonder - was this really happening? Was she really here, in her candle lit bedroom all alone with the only boy who had ever made her feel _other_ in an entirely positive way? _Other_ because she was _his_.

When Anne’s mind finally alighted on the word which she had only ever read in books before this moment, but never before experienced for herself, she felt a warm shiver run across her body, from head to foot. To be loved by Gilbert Blythe is something that feels slippery and ephemeral - she still wasn’t quite used to the reality of it. 

But, to be _cherished_ by Gilbert Blythe - who had seen her time and again at her very worst, yet was here touching her, kissing her, loving her in this way, with his sincerity and devotion shining through every movement… 

Anne broke off the contact of their lips, moving her head gently away from his in order to catch her breath and look up into his eyes once more. As she held his face in her hands and moved back to look at him, her eyes took in his mussed curls and pink cheeks and reddened lips before she met his eyes, where she found his pupils wide and dark. _Hungry_ , he had told her in a letter. She felt an answering hunger stretch and uncoil itself inside of herself. 

_____

_The bed._

Gilbert shifted forward slightly, his lips pressed firmly to Anne’s, hands on her ribs. He could feel the bones of her corset beneath his hands, and he longed to wrap himself as firmly around her. He ignored the thought that kept appearing in his mind - the one that told him they would both be much more comfortable if he lifted Anne once again and brought her to the bed that was just behind him. 

He felt her move, then, to gently press his face away from hers. His chest was rising and falling rapidly as he looked into her eyes, and then down to her swollen, pink lips, where he just caught the beginnings of a wide smile that stretched her lips wide and dimpled her cheeks. 

Just like that, Gilbert felt unsteady on his feet, like he might fall to his knees in front of her perch on the desk. His hands moved to either side of her legs, bracing himself against the powerful feelings of love and desire that took the breath from his lungs. He thought of the ring inside of his overcoat - which had, at some point, been casually flung from his shoulders onto the floor nearby. He wasn’t sure when the right time was to remove the velvet pouch in his front pocket there, but he knew that, at the moment, he wouldn’t be able to conjure the words necessary to convey to the girl in front of him all that he felt for her, desired to give to her. 

All he felt he could adequately convey at the moment was the thought that wouldn’t leave him alone: _the bed._

“Gilbert Blythe, please stop looking at me like that, or I will be forced to kiss you again, and it would be a real shame if you passed out from hunger and exhaustion before we had the chance to exchange any coherent words this evening,” Anne laughed softly, brushing her thumb along his bottom lip, her eyes twinkling. 

His lips moving into a smile under her thumb, Gilbert missed a beat before answering, “My hunger is currently being passably sated, thank you very much, Dryad.” 

Anne laughed again, loudly this time, and Gilbert’s thoughts maddeningly repeated the same message as before. _Bed._

“I have rations in my pocket for you, if I haven’t ground them into powder from sitting on them, and I think it’s high time we both got ready for bed, don’t you?” _Bed_ , Gilbert thought wildly for a moment, as if Anne were echoing his thoughts, but then he mentally shook himself. Anne moved forward on the desk, and went to place her feet on the ground, but Gilbert’s position, hands splayed against the desk on either side of her, didn’t allow her the room to do so. 

“Tell me one thing first,” he proposed, one eyebrow raised. “Did you wear your hair like this today simply to drive me mad with longing for you?” Gilbert reached up and gripped one braid gently, sliding his hand down until he held it by the ribbon. 

“How can you long for something when it’s right in front of you?” Anne arched an eyebrow right back at him, and he groaned quietly in the back of his throat. “Now be a good boy and let me down, and not only will I feed you, but I’ll let you help me take these out so we can both get some much needed rest,” she flipped her other braid behind her shoulder as she spoke.

Gilbert pretended to consider her proposal for a moment, and then he tugged lightly on the end of the braid he held and teased, “Whatever you say, Carrots.” 

_____

Anne pulled out the hard cookies she had squirreled away in her pockets and set them on the desk behind her, apologizing for the meager meal that was all she had to offer him. She asked him whether he would like her to go back downstairs and bring him more food, but he assured her that he had eaten on the train. 

“I’ll go and get ready for bed while you snack, then, and then perhaps we can stay up late discussing all of the things we didn’t include in our letters. I’m eager to hear all about your work with Doctor Oak, your boarding house, your friends, that devilish anatomy book...” 

“Speaking of anatomy books, I believe this good doctor promised you an inspection. I am nothing if not a man of my word…” Gilbert moved back toward her, his hand reaching out for her waist once more. 

“Gil!” Anne slapped his hand away lightly, laughter shaking her shoulders. She tried for sternness as she chided, “Behave yourself or I shall have to insist that you sleep in Josie’s bed down the hall instead of Diana’s.” 

“Yes, of course. My apologies, Miss,” Gilbert smirked, his hands raised in surrender. He reached behind him and then back up again to pop a cookie into his mouth, watching as Anne opened her wardrobe, removed a long, white nightgown, and closed it again. 

Anne turned to lock eyes with him, delivering another stern command. “Stay,” she warned as she went to the folding screen in the corner of the room.

Her heart was racing and her hands were shaking slightly as she tried to unfasten the buttons which ran down the front of her long, green dress. When she had finally succeeded, she stepped out of her gown and threw it across the top of the screen, then reached back to untie her corset. She groped there for a few moments in vain - the laces to her garment were simply not hanging there, where they should be. Reaching up to feel for the knot in the criss-cross of lacing up her back, she found that search, too, was in vain. Her heart began to gallop in her chest, and sweat broke out on her forehead. 

_____

Gilbert was on his third cookie, leaning against the desktop with his legs extended long and straight in front of him. He wanted to talk with Anne, to ask her more details about her own life here at Queens, but he was hungrier than he had let on, and he didn’t want to talk through a mouth of crumbs. 

He watched in full-mouthed confusion as Anne’s dress was removed back from the top of the screen, but she still did not emerge from behind it. Before he could swallow enough to ask whether everything was alright, her bright red face appeared from behind the folding screen. 

“My umm corset is… stuck. I’m not sure why the most humiliating things seem to happen almost exclusively to me, but… umm… would you please help me untie my --” Anne’s voice trailed off, and she looked at him with helpless pleading in her eyes. Her expression seemed to beg him, _Don’t say anything._

Gilbert swallowed hard, and nodded his head. He crossed the room and found Anne with her green dress pulled up around her waist and held closely to her front, her back turned toward him. Hands shaking slightly, Gilbert reached out and found that Anne’s corset strings had somehow tangled themselves into the top of her garment. He pulled gently to free them, and then he untied the knot in the strings and began loosening the threads woven together there. He placed his hands upon her shoulders when he had finished, and leaned forward to kiss the place where her neck met her shoulders softly. 

“Well, that answers that,” he murmured, his lips still on her skin. She turned to look over her shoulder as he stood up, a question in her eyes, cheeks still flaming red. 

“I’ve always wondered whether your blush extends past your neck,” he eyed the reddening collar bones appearing above the neckline of her chemise. Her cheeks somehow colored further, and he winked at her cheekily before going back to his perch by her desk. 

A minute later, he watched as her green dress was flung atop the folding screen once more, followed by a white corset with streaming laces. In another moment, Anne appeared around the screen dressed in a frilly white nightgown, her cheeks still pink. 

She went straight to Diana’s bedside table, where she lit a candle and placed it there, and then turned down her covers and fluffed the pillow resting atop the bed. Anne briskly turned around then, and Gilbert could almost see Marilla’s influence in the firm set of her shoulders, the obvious way she was avoiding his eyes and busying herself about the room. He felt himself smiling again as he finished off the last of the biscuits she had smuggled him. 

_____

Anne walked swiftly back to her own bed on the far side from her desk, furthest from where Gilbert leaned, idylly chewing. She drew back her covers, climbed inside, and pulled her blanket up to her waist, settling herself in an upright position against her headboard. Once she was comfortably settled, she raised her eyes to meet Gilbert’s for the briefest moment, glancing back down to her folded hands and hoping fervently that her cheeks were no longer showing her chagrin. 

“So, Dr. Oak. Describe her in great detail. I believe you will find that you can no longer ignore my curiosity in this matter. Young, you said? What else? Does she have lovely, raven hair? I bet she has long, raven hair. I’ve always wanted hair as black as a raven’s wing, you know, ever since I read about a heroine with long--” Anne stopped rambling suddenly when she felt Gilbert sit at the foot of her bed. 

She opened her mouth to speak, but when she looked up she found him grinning broadly at her and found that she had quite forgotten what she wanted to say. 

“Christine is younger than I had imagined - about Mary’s age, I believe, and she has short, brown hair. She has been an excellent academic advisor to me, but I hadn’t considered whether or not she was beautiful until you showed such obvious interest in the subject in your letters. I--” 

“Stop. Nevermind. I don’t want to know. I have changed my mind,” Anne interjected vehemently.

Ignoring her outburst, Gilbert continued gently, “I find that I am no judge of beauty anymore, however. Since the most stunning girl I have ever laid eyes on told me that she loves me as I love her, I find I can no longer truly _see_ anyone but _her_.” He reached out a hand and placed it on top of hers where they were folded in her lap, gave them a light squeeze, and stood again abruptly. 

Anne watched, warmth spreading through her chest - her body reacting to his speech faster than her mind could, as Gilbert crossed the room to the folding screen, kicking off his shoes and removing his vest, hanging on the end of the screen next to Anne’s dress. It was certainly the first time he had said that he loved her aloud before, and she found herself speechless for a moment.

Gilbert removed his suspenders, placing them atop his vest, and crossed the room to Diana’s bed, copying Anne’s motions in tucking himself into bed sitting upright. 

“Now,” he intoned matter-of-factly, “let’s hear more about this _Royal Gardner_ I keep hearing so _little_ about.” 

_____

Gilbert found himself laughing until his sides ached as Anne told him all about Roy - his wavy blonde hair and self-important way of inserting bits of poetry he had memorized into his compliments to her and her housemates, and the way that she had long-since stopped correcting the verses that he invariably butchered in said recitations. Anne made Gilbert promise to ask Cole to do his impression of Roy - the way he had stuck his nose into the air and positively simpered at her as he had misquoted Tennyson, telling her that, ‘The bird must break before the shell may soar’ when she had fretted about her performance after a particularly difficult test. 

“He really is a nice boy, but he is much, _much_ too… I don’t know… too _pretty_ to catch my eye. I like my beaus to conjure up the dark, brooding image of Mr. Darcy, not the pretty, pompous picture of Mr. Wickham. Plus, he hasn’t anywhere near so splendid a chin of a certain boy I know…” Anne teased easily. 

Still laughing, Gilbert stuck out his chin, attempting to look down at it. “Splendid, eh? Well, I will take being compared with Mr. Darcy any day - we both have made complete asses of ourselves and fell in love with women miles beyond our reach in both beauty and wit - even if I am not quite so _poetical_ as some young men.” 

“I shouldn’t reveal this deeply-held secret, but the girls really are _all_ about chins nowadays. Poetry has _very_ little to do with attraction. Well, chins and devastatingly romantic letters…” Anne’s voice trailed off suggestively, and Gilbert sat up closer to look at her in the flickering candlelight. 

“Well, then, I can finally stop wondering what it is about me that won your heart, fair maiden,” Gilbert’s deep voice resonated through Anne, and she laughed lightly. 

“Really, it is me who must be left wondering, it would seem. Worse than that… far worse…” Anne paused for much too long, and Gilbert feared she didn’t intend to go on. 

“What? What’s worse?” 

“Oh, I don’t know. I suppose that I am still nervous about going home. Your letters have helped so much - quieted so many of the questions I have had about how… _why_ me… but I’m afraid of the speculations and hurtful comments of others. Like Moody and Charlie and the rest, I just know that all of Avonlea is wondering what kind of spell that red-headed orphan witch has cast over you to get you to choose her over the beautiful blonde, and I’m just not ready to face it all. A part of me wishes we could stay here, snowed-in and alone together this Christmas.” 

Anne’s voice sounded worried, and Gilbert wished he could promise her that he would protect her from the sting of any comment their neighbors might make once they got home. He opened his mouth to reassure her, but found that he couldn’t adequately say what he needed to from across the darkened room, so he got out of his bed, lifted his candle and went to Anne’s side of the room. He carefully placed his candle on her bedside table next to hers, then lifted her cover and climbed into bed next to her, waiting as she scooted over to make room, and then pulling the quilt back over them both. He put his arm around her and she eased her head onto his shoulder. They sat like that for a long, silent moment before he spoke. 

“Anne, I’m sorry that there will be so much gossip about us in Avonlea. I realize that you will bear the brunt of that - people never seem quite as ready to repeat horrible rumors to my face as they seem wont to do to you - but know this: I ‘ardently admired and loved you,’ to borrow a phrase from my literary likeness, long before the mess I made courting Winnifred. I’m sorry I was confused for a while, but I’m not anymore. I love you. That’s all that matters - not what the Rachel Lyndes of the world have to say about it,” Gilbert gently squeezed her shoulder as he spoke. Anne smiled into his shoulder at the wording he chose, remembering the love letter she had written at his kitchen table last summer. 

“But if you ask me,” he continued quietly, “I say we come up with something to tell all of those busibodies that will turn their hair white. What do you say we hold a contest - whoever comes up with the most ridiculous story of how we two orphans fell for each other wins? We can compare stories on the train back to Charlottetown after the break.”

She lifted her head to find his eyes twinkling at her mischievously, and she laughed once, loudly, in surprise. 

“You’re on,” she grinned, and she reached out her hand to shake his. 

_____

Hours later, the candles had burned low and Gilbert was still in Anne’s bed, the two of them whispering and giggling like children, laying on their sides and facing one another in the near-darkness. 

“We really must get some rest,” Anne implored during a lull in the conversation during which Gilbert yawned hugely. “Here, I’ve an idea.” 

She sat up in bed and reached across him to her nightstand, where she had replaced the stack of books that they had upended much earlier that evening. She ran a finger down the spines of the stack until she had reached the one she sought after, then she lifted the book out and situated herself upright against the headboard. Gilbert sat up to look at her, and she patted her lap matter-of-factly, inviting him to lay his head there. 

“How about I read you a bedtime story?” she asked. 

He grinned, but before he laid his head down, he reached out to untie the ribbon at the bottom of one of her plaits. His hands moved slowly, gently as he unwound one long braid, and then the other. He smoothed her hair down and pushed it behind her shoulder, then reached out to smooth his thumb across her cheekbone. He moved his hand down once more to cup the side of her neck, pulled her close, and gave her a long, sweet kiss before settling his head into her lap and pulling the blanket up to his neck. 

Anne’s stomach filled with butterflies at his gentle, casual affections. She smiled to herself as she opened the book to the page she had last read, then she propped open with one hand, placed her other hand into his dark curls, and idley began playing with his soft, dark hair as she read. 

“For several subsequent days I saw little of Mr. Rochester…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my loves!  
> Everyone still with me after that? Anyone need to use the fainting couch? No? Okay, but it’s there if you need it, even if just for a quick *swoon*.  
> I got the wildest, evil-est head cold this week, and this chapter is a day later than I wanted it to be. However, it is also near double the length of my usual chapters, so I hope I am forgiven.  
> In the spirit of disclosure, it was written under the direction of COPIOUS amounts of cold medicine, so if things got a little too wild, let’s blame the true culprit - the Quil-family of products.  
> I promise to update again soon and hope you all are well- I can’t wait to read your comments and find out what you thought of this Mr. Quil’s Wild Ride of a chapter!  
> xoxo  
> M


	4. Its Green Sheath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *****  
> Anne reached out to place the book gently atop the stack on her bedside table, then spread her arms wide and stretched. She slowly lifted the dark head from her lap, scooted out from under him, and placed a pillow where her legs had been. The movement was smooth and slow, but, as her bare feet hit the cold floorboards beneath her, his hand reached out for her, touching her wrist gently, and sliding his fingers down to grip hers. 
> 
> “Stay.” 
> 
> His voice was deep with sleep, the sound muffled slightly by the pillow he rested on. Anne tried to look at his eyes in the darkness, but they were closed, his face still peaceful and serene as it had been in sleep.   
> *****

Anne had finished reading two chapters of  Jane Eyre aloud when her candle sputtered and died, dousing the room in darkness. She felt fairly certain that Gilbert had been deeply asleep for a while now, but she continued reading in a low, quiet voice simply for the pleasure of doing so — his head on her lap, curls fully undone and standing at odd angles after countless times of her running her fingers through them; his body curled toward her, their feet touching under the covers -- it was all so peaceful and beautiful and it made Anne’s chest feel exquisitely over-full. 

Anne reached out to place the book gently atop the stack on her bedside table, then spread her arms wide and stretched. She slowly lifted the dark head from her lap, scooted out from under him, and placed a pillow where her legs had been. The movement was smooth and slow, but, as her bare feet hit the cold floorboards beneath her, his hand reached out for her, touching her wrist gently, and sliding his fingers down to grip hers. 

“Stay.” 

His voice was deep with sleep, the sound muffled slightly by the pillow he rested on. Anne tried to look at his eyes in the darkness, but they were closed, his face still peaceful and serene as it had been in sleep. 

“I’ll be right over there. And I’ll see you when you wake,” Anne whispered, a small smile curling the corners of her mouth as she turned back to him and reaching out a hand to smooth back his curls once more. She was suddenly reminded of the sweet, angelic expressions of the middle set of Hammond twins once she had finally wrestled them to sleep. 

“Okay,” he murmured, eyes still closed. “Okay. You’re right...” 

His voice was losing volume, and Anne was suddenly sure that he was still asleep - perhaps having this conversation as part of a vivid dream. She kissed his hand lightly and set it back on the bed, then turned and tiptoed away. 

After she got herself settled into the bed, shivering as the cold sheets came to rest against her warm frame, Anne heard Gilbert murmuring again in his sleep, and thought she caught the words ‘someday’ and ‘stay’ among his garbled speech. She shivered again in the darkness, and drifted off to sleep with the phantom feeling of his body against her, and the word ‘someday’ echoing in her mind. 

_____

Gilbert Blythe felt himself begin to wake, but the sounds and sights he awoke to so acutely mirrored the dream he was having that he felt quite disoriented as he blinked rapidly against the brightness of the room around him. 

Once his eyes had adjusted to the light, he found Anne, dressed in her lovely forest green skirt and white blouse, smiling down at him with a cup of coffee in one hand, a plate of rolls in another. She leaned down to place her offerings on the bedside table, which had been cleared of its stack of books from the night before. 

“Good morning!” she chirped, sitting next to where Gilbert lay on the bed with a small bounce, folding her hands in her lap. “I asked Lily if she would mind my bringing up a second cup of coffee to read with this morning, and she obliged my request most kindly. There are fresh buns, too. The sun is shining, the roads are being cleared as we speak, and you, my dear, have exactly 126 eyelashes… well, on your left eye, at least. I counted them before I went down to breakfast, having recalled my desire to do so as I got dressed and not being able to help myself. If you’re curious, I can count those on your right eye if you would just --”

She broke off with a small  _ squeak _ as Gilbert reached out for her waist and pulled her suddenly against him. He kissed her sharply, wrapping his arms all of the way around her and squeezing her body against his. Then, just as quickly, he buried his face in her neck, inhaling deeply and then chuckling a hot breath onto her skin, giving her goosebumps. 

“Are you always this chipper in the morning?” he grumbled, nuzzling her neck and making her squirm and giggle. 

“I don’t start out quite this chipper usually, but, then again, I have never woken up with a hedonistic male roommate before,” she laughed, slapping at his arms playfully and wriggling to get free. 

“Well thank heaven for that, then,” Gilbert grumbled, holding her even more tightly, nipping and kissing from the bottom of her ear to the base of her neck and back again. 

“Gil, I…” Anne trailed off distractedly, her eyes fluttering shut as she sunk into his embrace. After a moment, she seemed to shake herself, ejecting more forcefully. “Gilbert! We have to get you out of here before Lily decides to come up and fetch these dishes!” 

“Alright, alright,” he grumbled, lips against her neck. His arms loosened infinitesimally, but then he gripped her more tightly and rolled onto his back, pulling her so that her torso rested on his, her head just under his chin, legs beside his. He moved his hands up her back, and held her close. “It’s just that this may be the last moment I have alone with you, outside of parlour rooms with nearby eavesdroppers, or wintry landscapes on brief walks, and I simply cannot abide that idea without first attempting to get my fill of you.” 

His hands moved up to her hair, which she wore down in loose waves, and he let the silken red threads slide through his splayed fingers. She lay with her ear pressed against his heart, and her body melted into his embrace. 

Gilbert was certain now that he was still dreaming. He couldn’t imagine what he had done to deserve this - to feel so wholly content. He felt more like himself than he ever had before. He had everything he had ever really wanted - a family, a home, a bright future as a doctor, and this.  _ Her _ . He had the heart of the only girl who had ever made him feel like he could do anything, be anyone, as long as she was on his side. 

“I love you, Anne. My Anne with an E…” Gilbert spoke the words with a quiet calm that belied the way he felt inside - as though he might explode from the joy of getting to say this aloud, the fond object of his affection and desires in his arms. 

For a split-second, Gilbert thought about vaulting across the room to reach into his coat pocket for the small, drawstring bag residing there, but found he couldn’t move a muscle. He wanted to sit in this feeling for the rest of forever while simultaneously feeling that he would never, ever recover were she to remain silent. His chest felt tight and full and, without realizing it, he held his breath.

_____

Just because she already knew it - knew it first from his sudden appearance at her doorstep, then from his passionate embrace, and over and again from his long, lovely, heart-stoppingly beautiful letters - didn’t lessen the impact of Gilbert’s quiet declaration. 

Anne was instantly transported to that first day at Green Gables - the place where she hoped to have found her forever home, only to be bitterly disappointed. She wasn’t wanted. Had never been, would never be wanted. 

Then she remembered every prayer she had uttered into the still, silent night of her bedroom at Green Gables, long after she had known the meaning of friendship and love and family. She thought of the times that she prayed in hopeless resignation to be happy as the bride of adventure, since no man had ever wanted her; could ever want her. 

She felt every jealous twinge she had ever felt at another girls’ beauty; felt every cold, cruel comment from another child; from cruel adults whose verbal barbs had cut her to the core. 

Anne closed her eyes and breathed in every bit of hurt and fear and disappointment she had collected over a childhood filled with loneliness and wanting, and, as she breathed out, she released each and every one of them. She let Gilbert’s words enter her heart and begin to heal the wounds she carried. 

And in that moment, the narrative of her life - where she would be her own woman; contented but forever alone, never an “us” - shifted, and suddenly a new life unfurled before her. A life where all of her passions existed in harmony with this love - a love which had unfolded naturally out of a beautiful friendship, as a golden-hearted rose slipping from its green sheath.

Anne spoke in quiet awe, her eyes full of unshed tears of a deep and abiding happiness. “I never expected it to be like this. I mean, I have read - and written, for that matter - my fair share of _romantical_ tales, but nothing I have ever encountered has detailed how… I don’t know… _easy_ I guess? How very _easy_ it is to tell you that I love you, Gilbert Blythe.”

She felt rather than heard Gilbert exhale, and then another rumble beneath her as he chuckled softly. “Oh, sure. We just had to go through a year of missed-chances and misunderstandings, an ill-considered courtship, and a nearly  _ tragical romance _ in every sense just to get here.  _ Easy _ . Definitely.” 

He laughed again lightly, but his words sobered Anne’s soaring heart. He was right, of course. They had come so perilously close to missing each other entirely - missing  _ this _ . She found the thought unendurable. 

Anne tightened her arms around his torso and determined to lighten the dark turn of her thoughts. “You don’t even know the half of our tragical tale! Once I paid a gypsy woman a dime just to have her tell me all about the tall, dark, handsome man who was an  _ excellent _ dancer, and who also happened to be the  _ love of my life _ ! And then, my darling, not ten minutes later, you came waltzing up with a gorgeous blonde on your arm! I very nearly gave up on the very idea of love then and there, and I  _ certainly _ gave up on the idea of fortune-telling!” 

They lay in their embrace, brilliant morning light reflecting off of the snow to fill the room around them as Anne told him the story of a head cold, a broken vanilla bottle, and newly-realized feelings, all of which conspired to ruin her first time at a county fair. They laughed together, incredulous at the difference in their shared memories, and wondering at the way the stories changed when told in each other’s arms at last. 

_____

Some time later, a  _ creak  _ from a nearby floorboard sent Anne rocketing out of the bed, getting to her feet and dragging Gilbert down to the floor beside her with a  _ thump _ , both of their hearts pounding in their chests.

Anne stood upright, pulling the blankets from her bed to pile them on top of Gilbert’s prone form, when a quiet knock sounded on the door. She looked down at the tangled lump of fabric on the floor with panic her eyes, then smoothed her skirts and went swiftly to answer the door. 

Lily stood in the hallway, a smile on her face as she asked Anne,  _ Have you finished your breakfast? I came up to help you with your bags - the train should leave in half an hour.  _

Lily’s expression changed as she took in Anne, standing in front of her - hair disheveled and eyes wild.  _ Is everything okay?  _

Anne plastered a smile onto her face, unwittingly increasing the impression she was giving of a cornered feral animal.  _ Hi! Sorry, I must have fallen asleep at my desk. I haven’t even touched my coffee! I will bring it down along with my bag - is there any more coffee? I’d love to have a hot cup with you just before I go. I will meet you in the kitchen, okay?  _

Lily paused for a long moment, searching Anne’s frantic expression. Then she suddenly stepped forward, Anne moving quickly to stand in front of her. 

_ I thought I would get your cup and plate?  _ Lily’s expression was now openly suspicious. 

Anne smiled widely, exposing more teeth than was normal, and replied,  _ Let me grab them for you! _

She turned and walked briskly to the far side of her bed, smoothing her hair with both hands as she went toward her nightstand, where a boy-shaped pile of bedclothes lay on the floor. She leaned forward to grab the dishes, then spun about to find that Lily had followed her into the room. Anne’s eyes went wide and she smiled, again too largely. 

Anne offered the plate and cup to Lily with energy, grateful that she had risen early, made Diana’s bed neatly, and tidied up her room before going down to breakfast. When Lily took the dishes Anne signed,  _ I’ll just make my bed, grab my things, and meet you downstairs.  _

Lily stood stock still for a few seconds, then nodded minutely and turned to leave. Anne watched her go, and as Lily turned to close the door behind her, she glanced toward the suspenders hanging over the top of Anne’s folding screen, then at the men’s shoes on the floor beneath the screen, and then her eyes went back to meet Anne’s. She held her gaze for another long moment, and then Anne turned her eyes down to her shoes. She heard the door click closed, but remained frozen to the spot. She didn’t move until Gilbert stood in front of her, his feet bare, his hair mussed, and put his hands on her arms. 

“She knows?” he asked quietly. 

Anne bobbed her head once slightly, swallowing hard against the lump in her throat. She thought of all of the time she had spent with Lily, learning to sign and sharing stories of their upbringings; the things she had told Lily about Gilbert, about his kind, passionate heart and desire to change the world for good… She could only hope that she would understand and believe Anne when she told her that nothing had happened - that they had just wanted to be alone together for a little while before going home. 

Anne moved away from Gilbert then, buzzing around her room in a frenzy, tucking in sheets and fluffing her pillow, fussing with the corners of her blanket until it was just right, then turning in a circle, looking for something else to do. Gilbert watched her without comment, waiting until she glanced up at him once more. Anne took a deep, shaky breath in and nodded again once. 

“Get dressed and follow me in a few minutes - I’ll meet you outside soon. As soon as I can. I just want to try to clear things up with Lily, if she will allow me to…” Anne wrung her hands in front of her nervously, looking down. 

Gilbert reached out to hold her hands in his, not speaking until she met his gaze. “Let me come with you. I can help you explain, and I would be so happy to meet your friend…” he implored her, eyes wide and searching. 

“No. No, I’ll go. But… thank you,” She leaned upon tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek, then reached around him to grab her packed suitcase and swiftly left the room. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again my dearest Anne-girls!
> 
> I hope this finds you all well and happy and healthy. I am FINALLY through my wicked head cold - and I learned my lesson from Queen Anne and didn't attempt to bake anything whilst I was sick, either! 
> 
> I have to confess something, though. It PHYSICALLY HURT me to write this chapter. I am SO not great with conflict, IRL or in writing, apparently. But I hope that you like this chapter anyway. Please please please send me your lovely comments and let me know your thoughts! I live for them, and am so grateful to all of you. 
> 
> Sending you lots of love (and near-bed-sharing giddiness!),   
> M


	5. Between the Woods and Frozen Lake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *****  
> Gilbert’s shoulders were shaking with laughter by the end of this display, and he looked over at Anne with his eyebrows raised sardonically. However, Anne only noticed the triumphant look in Gilbert’s eyes, a look that broadcast Gilbert’s thoughts directly to her. Eyes that said it was Gilbert who had won, and not his insufferable business partner. Anne felt the look like a gust of warm air, and she breathed in sharply, filling her chest with a warm glow as though a lightning bolt of happiness could be passed directly from his heart to hers. A broad, dazed grin spread across her face as she stared at Gilbert’s happy face for a moment too long.   
> *****

Gilbert felt like he had swallowed a brick as he made his way down the stairs a few minutes later. Anne was down the hallway in the kitchen with Lily, and he wanted to be there with her, to be by her side and not allow her to go through what would be an incredibly awkward conversation at best alone, but he also respected Anne’s feelings enough to do as she had asked him. 

He closed the front door quietly behind him and walked down the porch steps and around the side of the house. He found he could not stand still, so he paced nervously back and forth along the snow-covered walkway, wearing a pathway as his footsteps packed the snow down into a hard sheet of ice. When he heard the front door open, he turned around swiftly to face the porch, lost his footing on the slippery path and fell hard - his legs slipping out from under him and his backside landing hard on the ice-slick of his own making. 

His head snapped up as he heard a familiar gasp alongside an unfamiliar sound, both of which coming from the direction of the house. There he saw two girls standing at the bottom of the porch steps - Anne and another young woman whom Gilbert assumed to be Lily. He smiled ruefully up at them both, and gingerly moved to standing. 

“Hello,” Gilbert waved at Lily as he said it, smiling sheepishly and meeting her eyes. She nodded back at him, her lips not smiling, but with a mirthful glint in her eye. 

She turned to Anne and the glint hardened, her hands moving rapidly in communication with the abashed red-head beside her. Anne smiled slightly and moved her hands in a brief response, her cheeks reddening slightly. Lily did not smile, her eyes searching Anne’s face for a long moment.    
  


Anne held her gaze as she reached out for Gilbert’s hand, grasping him tightly and raising her chin almost in defiance as her skin came into contact with his; her eyes remained soft, almost pleading. Gilbert felt that he should close his mouth and try to rearrange his face from the dumbfounded expression he knew was stuck there, but he was too slow. Instead he stood stock still, looking between the two girls before him, trying to understand and to convey strength to Anne in the slight pressure of his fingers on hers. 

Lily nodded her head slightly at Anne, her eyes moving with the motion of her chin to briefly take in the united lovers before her, and she signed a brief, sharp response that Gilbert did not comprehend. Anne’s wide, blue eyes filled with tears as she gestured from her lips in a straight line downward, her palm to the sky, and then she closed that hand into a fist, held it to her heart, and motioned in a slow clockwise circle. Two drops spilled over from her eyes as she looked into Lily’s eyes unblinkingly. 

Lily nodded again slightly, her lips pressed together in a thin, taut line. Anne moved a slight step forward as if to embrace her friend, but something in the other girl’s eyes seemed to stop her. She paused, motioned across her heart again, and turned to leave, pulling Gilbert with her. He stayed rooted to the spot for just a moment - long enough for Lily’s eyes to turn toward him. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, mimicking the motion Anne had made around her heart with his free hand curled into a fist. 

Gilbert felt Anne’s shoulders hunch forward against the biting December wind as they walked away from Blackmore House, and he squeezed her hand reassuringly once more. The brick still weighed inside his stomach, and he wasn’t sure what to say - he only knew that he wanted Anne to know that he was there, would be there.

_____

On their way to the train station, Anne replayed flashes of her interaction with Lily over and again in her head: the hurt look in Lily’s eyes when she met her in the kitchen. The accusations:  _ Why didn’t you tell me? You could have asked me. You took advantage of me.  _

The last one reverberated in Anne’s ears like the echoing clamber of a gunshot.

Tears streamed down her eyes, stinging her cheeks with each frosty gale, as she felt again what she had conveyed to her friend:  _ I’m so sorry. We missed each other for so long. We only wanted time together; only talked; only needed time. I am so, so sorry.  _

After insisting upon walking Anne out with a cold, impersonal gesture toward the door, Lily had told Anne in parting,  _ I will not tell Mrs. Blackmore about the boy. Safe travels. _

Anne could feel Gilbert’s eyes on her as they walked; concern emanated from him in gusts just like the snow, which was picked up from their pathway in bursts by the sharp wind, pelting icy droplets against their faces. She wasn’t ready to talk yet, but his hand in hers felt safe and strong, and she knew that soon she would unburden herself to him, and that he would listen and understand. 

She would tell him about her conversation with Lily, and of her deep disappointment and shame at having lied to and taken advantage of someone who had only ever been kind and good to her. She would cry, and Gilbert would comfort her by reminding her that she always knew how to make things right again. Then Anne would search his eyes and wonder once again at the many mistakes and miscommunications along her path, and how it still somehow had led her  _ here _ , to a place where she could pour her heart out to this boy who knew her and loved her impossibly, infinitely. 

She would look into his lovely, dark eyes and tell him with all of the conviction that was in her that she didn’t regret their night together. She needed him to know that, above all else. And then she would rest her head on his shoulder as the train rumbled toward Bright River, staring 

at the white-washed landscape outside of her window and imagining how she might win back the trust of the friend she had wronged. 

_____

At 11:09 AM the Charlottetown train rumbled into Bright River Station, and Bash tried to hang back from the small throng of people waiting on the platform, all anxious awaiting the delayed arrival of their loved ones. He felt, rather than saw, the hostile furtive glances from a few who passed by as passengers disembarked, ignoring the stares as well as the prickling of anger at the back of his neck at the continued ignorance of some of his  _ neighbors _ . Instead he focused on the platform ahead - hoping to catch a glimpse of shiny red hair or a grey newsboy cap in the crowd gathering up luggage and searching out familiar faces in the mist. 

A broad grin broke across his handsome, boyish face as he spotted a flashing curtain of red curls from beneath a grey toque. As the couple approached him, he called out in his thick Trinidadian accent to them, his bright smile evident in his voice. 

“ _ Gilbert! Anne! _ Welcome, weary travelers!” 

Gilbert dropped the bags he was holding as he rushed forward to hug his brother, slapping him on the back and exclaiming, “I wasn’t expecting you! I figured nothing could have stopped Matthew and Marilla from coming to claim us!” 

Sebastian laughed, gripping a grinning Anne in a tight hug before stepping back and admitting, “Well, I may have begged them to let me come and stand here in the cold so that I could do something I have been itching to do for many months now…”

Gilbert stepped back, suddenly wary as he watched Bash’s face break into a wide, roguish grin. 

“Bash, please…” Gilbert’s hands went up in front of him as if to show that he was unarmed, a supplicant asking for mercy. 

Bash’s course of action remained unmoved by Gilbert’s immediate surrender, though in actuality his body began to suddenly move quite a bit, dancing in a forward and backward motion on the spot, his grin growing larger. 

“Gilbert, you didn’t think I was going to let you get away with this did you? You thought you would write to me from Toronto that you were courting Anne so that I couldn’t tell you…” 

“Bash, please. Don’t.” Gilbert’s quiet plea went unnoticed by both Sebastian and Anne, who was smiling happily albeit confusedly at the scene unfolding in front of her. 

“...that _I win_! I _knew it_! It was _always Anne_! Ever since you got her letter on the ship, _I knew it_!” Bash was rolling his hands, pointing his fingers at Gilbert as he performed his victory dance in the face of his young friend, who was now standing with his arms folded across his chest and looking as though he was trying to swallow down the smile forming on his lips. 

“I  _ called  _ it! You  _ love  _ her! I  _ win _ ,” Bash sang at Gilbert while he concluded his victory dance by spinning on the spot and shooting a cheeky wink at Anne. 

Gilbert’s shoulders were shaking with laughter by the end of this display, and he looked over at Anne with his eyebrows raised sardonically. However, Anne only noticed the triumphant look in Gilbert’s eyes, a look that broadcast Gilbert’s thoughts directly to her. Eyes that said it was  _ Gilbert  _ who had won, and not his insufferable business partner. Anne felt the look like a gust of warm air, and she breathed in sharply, filling her chest with a warm glow as though a lightning bolt of happiness could be passed directly from his heart to hers. A broad, dazed grin spread across her face as she stared at Gilbert’s happy face for a moment too long. 

Bash watched this exchange with bright, shining eyes. He felt a bone-deep contentment at the turn of events that had brought Anne to Gilbert at last. For a split-second, he looked forward to getting home and recounting the look he had just seen pass between them in detail to Mary, and his contentment instantly turned to weariness. He still ached for his wife every day. The desperation of that bitter pain had ebbed, but he knew that it would never fully leave him. 

When Gilbert looked back to Bash, who still grinned wickedly - looking  _ much  _ too pleased with himself and his little performance - Gilbert’s face was alight with an almost-giddy grin. 

As he bent to retrieve his trunk from the ground, Gilbert acquiesced, saying “Tease all you like, but we both know you’re right. After all, only a boy can’t admit when he’s gone over a lady.” Thrusting the trunk at Bash’s chest, Gilbert then turned and grabbed Anne’s suitcase in one hand, took her hand with the other, and led the way toward the horse and buggy that waited nearby. 

_____

On the ride home, Anne and Gilbert relayed all they could of sudden storms and train delays, skirting Bash’s question to Gilbert: “Was it difficult to find a room for the night?” with a vague, “No, I found a place near Anne’s boarding house.” 

Gilbert and Anne tried hard not to glance sidelong at one another here, and it was their sudden fixed gaze on the road ahead that made Bash more curious than any covert glance ever could have. 

“I have never seen a storm quite like that! Did you have trouble with it last night, Bash? We should make a snowman for Delly with all of this fresh snow!” Anne ejected loudly, and the conversation continued on. 

Bash informed them of the plans for their Christmas Eve dinner the following night at Green Gables, the Christmas Panto the day after, and the New Years Dance being held the night before they were to head back to school the next week. Anne’s shoulders once again grew stiff at the mention of so many goings-on, and Gilbert squeezed the hand he held on the seat next to him again. 

_ I’m here.  _

Anne felt Gilbert’s quiet assurance, then drew a deep breath in and exhaled all of her anxiety and melancholy in a frosty puff of white fog. She fixed her mind on the destination ahead, anchored to the feeling of her hand in his: she was home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Loves!!
> 
> Gosh, my last update was Monday and that literally feels like 18 years ago. Longest week ever. Sorry it's been a minute - I have missed you all! 
> 
> This chapter was really hard for me to write, somehow, and I can't say that I'm 100% happy with how it turned out. But i am DYING to move this story forward into some fun stuff ahead! I hope you're hanging with me, and I really really really really hope that you are still enjoying the ride. 
> 
> I honestly love you all and hope you have an awesome weekend ahead! Please let me know what you think, and as always thank you a million for being so wonderful!   
> xoxoxo  
> M


	6. Coming Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *****  
> He looked over at Anne as Marilla began sharing a few tidbits of local ephemera after Gilbert inquired after the goings on at Green Gables, catching her staring at him with shining, serene eyes, and his smirk grew into something warm and wide. Anne’s stomach flipped over, upending the lovely feeling of tranquility, transforming it into something too thrilling to be restful. Her eyes grew wide and breath filled her chest. She did not exhale, but continued staring into his eyes, being drawn in like an insect to firelight. 
> 
> “Ahem!” Anne and Gilbert both jumped at the sudden noise of Bash clearing his throat. When she turned to look at him, Sebastian was grinning like he was close to exploding with laughter. Anne turned to Marilla and Matthew to find that they, too, wore pink cheeks and sly grins, although theirs were somewhat more subdued than Bash’s cat who caught the canary expression. 
> 
> Turning back to look at Gilbert, she found he was smiling half-exasperatedly, half-good humoredly at his brother. Bash elbowed him playfully in the ribs, and Gilbert winced and hung his head, cheeks aflame, shaking it gently as if to clear it and grinning sheepishly at his shoes.   
> *****

Jerry opened the gate at Green Gables and waved merrily at Anne as Sebastian drove the sleigh into the yard. Matthew and Marilla hurried out onto the porch to greet them, inviting the party inside to warm up and visit before Gilbert and Bash headed back out into the cold. 

Standing in the kitchen of Green Gables with all of these smiling familiar faces drew a warm blanket of contentment snugly around Anne’s shoulders, and she longed to keep them all there - draw them into the sitting room to visit around the fire so Anne could curl up in the delicious comfort like a cat on a windowsill. While Gilbert answered polite inquiries about travel and finals, Anne rested her hips back against the kitchen table and revelled in the sound of his voice, the way his lips curved up at the corners, his hat gripped tightly in his hands, the warm and courteous way he inquired after their health and well-being. Everything about the scene in front of her was  _ home _ . 

He looked over at Anne as Marilla began sharing a few tidbits of local ephemera after Gilbert inquired after the goings on at Green Gables, catching her staring at him with shining, serene eyes, and his smirk grew into something warm and wide. Anne’s stomach flipped over, upending the lovely feeling of tranquility, transforming it into something too thrilling to be restful. Her eyes grew wide and breath filled her chest. She did not exhale, but continued staring into his eyes, being drawn in like an insect to firelight. 

“Ahem!” Anne and Gilbert both jumped at the sudden noise of Bash clearing his throat. When she turned to look at him, Sebastian was grinning like he was close to exploding with laughter. Anne turned to Marilla and Matthew to find that they, too, wore pink cheeks and sly grins, although theirs were somewhat more subdued than Bash’s  _ cat who caught the canary _ expression. 

Turning back to look at Gilbert, she found he was smiling half-exasperatedly, half-good humoredly at his brother. Bash elbowed him playfully in the ribs, and Gilbert winced and hung his head, cheeks aflame, shaking it gently as if to clear it and grinning sheepishly at his shoes. 

Bash threw his arm around Gilbert’s shoulder and loudly announced, “I believe it’s time we made our way home, eh Uncle Gilby? There are a few people there who are eager for our return, and I have the feeling that if I leave it up to you we won’t make it home before dark.” 

Matthew and Marilla shook both men’s hands, and Marilla enthused, “We are so pleased to host your family for Christmas dinner tomorrow!”

Gilbert and Sebastian thanked them then wished them a good day, and Sebastian headed outside while Matthew and Marilla retreated further into the house. Before Anne could think to move, she and Gilbert were alone. She stood rooted against the kitchen table, and Gilbert approached her slowly, his cheeks still slightly pink, still smiling softly. 

“I suppose this means I won’t see you until tomorrow? I’m sure you will be busy here helping Marilla prepare for our little family feast…” Gilbert’s voice trailed off as he came to a stop in front of Anne, leaving just enough space between them to remain respectable. 

Anne’s breath caught in her chest. She hadn’t thought about the fact that, although they both would be in Avonlea for their Christmas break, they would  _ also  _ be half a mile apart most of the time, and surrounded by people the rest of it. In their one night together Anne found that a wall which existed between them in her head had crumbled down, and it felt like a dull ache in her chest to feel it being rebuilt. 

_ Propriety _ . Anne had never hated a word before, but she now despised this one. 

“Oh… yes. I… I want to be of use to Marilla. And I especially want to make sure the food is flavorful and delectable to the wide range of palates that will be around our table tomorrow! I… I will see you then… Tomorrow, I mean.” Anne looked at her shoes as she spoke the last sentence. 

A warm hand cupped under her chin, and she raised her head to find Gilbert looking not into her eyes, but down at her lips. Her heart beat one hard  _ thunk _ against her chest, and Anne was suddenly grateful for the support of the table behind her. 

“I enjoy walking before bed most evenings,” Gilbert said to her mouth. Her lips parted, and Gilbert stepped closer to her as if she had beckoned him, his feet planted in between hers, their bodies an inch apart. 

Anne nodded mutely, trying to keep up with what he was saying, but finding his sudden nearness extremely distracting. 

“Perhaps my walk could bring me near here…” His voice was low, and he lowered his face toward hers, his eyes moving up to hers to gauge her reaction. “I could come and take a rest from my exercise for a while… maybe in your barn? Say... nine o’clock?” Anne’s tongue involuntarily moved to wet her lower lip, and the movement brought his eyes back down to her mouth. “If you wanted to come out and keep me company for a little while… well, it would make me feel much better to know that I was going to see you again today.” He breathed out the last words with his lips brushing against hers lightly.

He waited there, his lips a hair's breadth away from hers - waiting for the words to sink in to Anne’s addled brain; waited until she gulped loudly, then spoke in a hoarse whisper. “That would be… nice. Nine o’clock. In the barn. Yes.” She blinked at him, and his eyes crinkle as he smiled suddenly, and then his arms were wrapped around her torso and his body was pressed up against hers, and he kissed her fiercely;  _ fervently _ . Like he was headed off to war and he wasn’t sure when he would see her again. Like he had been wandering through the desert and she was a cold drink of water. 

Anne was too dazed, too electrified to react. By the time she had lifted her arms to wrap around his neck, to hold him there and never let him go, he had stepped back and turned for the door. He paused just long enough in the doorway to turn and look over his shoulder at her, take a deep breath, beam a quick, exuberant smile at her, and he was gone. 

_____

“Oh, Diana! I thought I would  _ die  _ from shame and mortification! I don’t know what possessed me to do it -  _ really!  _ Sneaking a  _ boy  _ into our  _ bedroom _ ?! And then… oh, do you think Lily will  _ ever  _ forgive me?!” 

Anne moaned loudly, her head in Diana’s lap as they lay in her room at Orchard Slope.

Anne had found herself swept up in the rush of Christmas preparations almost as soon as she had bid farewell to her companions, who had made their way home to finish assembling the different facets of their own family Christmas traditions from all sides - Bash and Hazel’s Trinidadian traditions, never before properly celebrated together, Elijah’s Christmas heritage from his happy childhood with his loving mother in the Bog; and Gilbert’s family customs -- just thinking about it made Anne’s head spin! - but she had snuck away for a brief respite from baking and decorating, promising Marilla that she would be back at Green Gables in thirty minutes to begin construction on the next set of confections the matriarch had planned for their elaborate Christmas dinner the next night. 

Diana smoothed back Anne’s hair, more than used to soothing her friend during tumultuous times. She opened her mouth to answer Anne in the affirmative - to give what little comfort she could - but before she could get a sound out, Anne had gone on, stormily pouring her heart out to her bosom friend. 

“And,  _ oh _ ! You should see what an absolute  _ goose _ I turn into when Gilbert looks at me in this way of his! I don’t know how he does it, but he turns his brown eyes into this liquid, molten substance that sends this  _ jolt  _ through me like a lightning bolt that freezes my brain and turns me completely  _ stupid _ ! He did it in front of Bash  _ and  _ Matthew  _ and  _ Marilla a few hours ago, and my nerves  _ still  _ have not recovered! I don’t know  _ how  _ I will get through Christmas dinner in front of everyone! And --  _ Diana _ , is the whole town still talking about how ‘the Cuthbert’s orphan bewitched that nice Blythe boy’?!” 

“Well, yes, Anne. But you really mustn’t mind the Pyes and Sloanes of the world. They just--”

“ _ Ugh!! _ I honestly wish we had been snowed in at Charlottetown  _ permanently _ , Diana! Your Aunt Josephine and Cole would have taken pity on me after I got us both kicked out of Blackmore, and we would have had a jolly time, and Gilbert and I could have spent ever so much more time together. Oh, the feeling of being  _ alone  _ with him...“ Anne sighed dreamily here. Then she caught the quiet look of disapproval on Diana’s face, and she thought better of herself. 

“I really am a goose, aren’t I, my Diana? I’m so sorry.  _ Of course  _ I am thrilled to be home. I just need to figure out how to be  _ myself  _ again. I simply must not worry about the cruel and mean-spirited thoughts and actions of others, and instead relish being home on my island with all of the people that I love  _ most _ in the world. I’m so sorry - it truly is going to be a splendid Christmas!” 

Diana’s dimples appeared as she smiled lovingly down on her favorite person, and she nodded once. “That’s the spirit, Anne. It really is going to be lovely! Oh, I can’t wait to hear all about your family dinner. I wonder what Gilbert got you for Christmas - your first Christmas  _ in love _ !” Diana sighed rapturously, having picked up more than a few habits from her theatrically-inclined bosom friend. “That reminds me, I have something here that I was hoping you would bring back to Green Gables with you. It’s for… it’s for Jerry. Would you mind?”

Anne sat up slowly, seeming to weigh her words before she spoke them. “Why don’t you accompany me home? I… I don’t think I should be a go-between for you and Jerry. You’ve apologized, and I saw the way he looked at you on our visit last month. I  _ know _ he wants to hear from you, even if he hasn’t been ready to respond to your letters yet…” 

Diana looked down at her hands for a long moment after folding them in her lap. When she looked back up her eyes shone with unshed tears. “Anne, I was… I was so…  _ cruel _ … to him. He was so kind and I was so, so…” Her shoulders slumped and her head dropped forward. 

Anne swiftly wrapped her arms around Diana, holding her close. After a moment, she stroked Diana’s hair, saying quietly, “Try again, Diana. It will be okay. You have a kind and wonderful heart, and Jerry… Bring him your gift. Try again.” 

Diana leaned back to look into Anne’s bright eyes and found strength and confidence in them. Squaring her shoulders and nodding once, Diana sat determinedly upright. 

“Alright. You’re right. Let’s go.” 

_____

The landscape of Gilbert’s childhood home had changed so fundamentally in such a short period of time that it would have made a lesser man’s head spin. Life with his adventure-loving father had been difficult, but Gilbert had gotten caring for him down to a science as they traveled west in search of dry mountain air for his father’s ailment. Their pleasures were simple, and life was quiet and restful between doctor’s visits - reading poetry; planning their next adventure (if only in theory); surviving on simple fare of toast and tea on weekends, when their housekeeper was off-duty. 

And then…

Then Gilbert was alone, and his father’s wanderlust violently infected Gilbert as if it could be directly transferred, like a virus, from father to son. Gilbert couldn’t leave Avonlea fast enough. He had to get out - away. Being in a town full of friends made him feel more empty, more lonely, than he had ever thought possible. 

When he returned to Avonlea over a year later, he not only brought home a new sense of purpose, but he brought a brother, too. Gilbert found his calling, and Sebastian breathed new life into his home, clearing out the ghosts from his family residence and making Avonlea  _ home _ once more. 

Until…

After Mary, Gilbert thought that sadness would never be far from this house ever again - haunting him and its inhabitants; hanging over it like an ever-present storm cloud.

That is, until today. 

Hazel’s was the first face Gilbert saw as he and Bash approached. She threw the door open wide and smiled hugely at them both. Gilbert was relieved to see that the put-upon, subservient smile she used to use on him was gone, and she seemed genuinely happy to greet both him and her son. Bash had written to him of the work he and his mother had done - the long nights and tearful discussions of their shared history and trauma - and how cleaning out those old, festering emotional wounds had changed both of them for the better. Today was the first time Gilbert had been around them since they mended their relationship, and he could feel it in the air between them - the tension was gone, and comfort had taken its place. 

When Elijah followed Hazel onto the landing, a bundled baby Delphine held in his arms, Gilbert’s chest was filled with a warmth that took him off-guard.

The feeling was  _ belonging _ . The realization startled him as he recognized the feeling as an echo of what he had felt each time he read Anne’s letter, and more so last night in Anne’s room. Elijah belonged here, with his wide smile and clear, untroubled eyes. Hazel and Delly and Bash belonged, too. To each other, and to him. Gilbert belonged here  _ with  _ them. This was his home, their home. Gilbert was suddenly so grateful for this home - for all of its iterations in his life. 

His eyes grew wet at the sudden, knee-buckling strength of his feelings, and he threw his arms around them all in turn. 

He was ushered inside, where he took in the sights and sounds and smells of Christmas. The tree was lit in honor of his homecoming, a fire was roaring in the fireplace, and Hazel thrust a cold cup of ponche-de-creme into his hands. “Bush medicine,” Bash answered Gilbert’s unspoken question as he looked into his cup. Gilbert smiled and took a big gulp. 

Soon they were all seated around the table, talking and laughing and sharing stories with one another. Gilbert felt truly exhausted from his travels the day before - a feeling intensified from the alcohol he tasted in his spiced drink - but nothing could drag him away from the contentment he found around the table with him. He had so much to be grateful for this Christmas, and the thought was sweet and near-overwhelming at the moment. He was well on his way to becoming a doctor, already hard at work on experiments that could change the course of human history in medicine, he had a family, a home, and… 

Anne. 

He closed his eyes and lay his head on his arms while the conversation swelled around him, remembering Anne’s bedroom from the night before, her hand in his on the train, his head in her lap… Gilbert fell asleep there, his family around him, the warmth of the fire at his back - content and comfortable - and the memory of Anne on his lips. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my loves!
> 
> This chapter is 1. short. 2. sweet. 
> 
> I hope that you love it and I P R O M I S E to post another chapter soon. I have been looking forward to writing the Christmas dinner scene for so long and I'm truly, truly sorry that I keep getting bogged down in the details (read: kissing) and haven't just gotten it over with already! But I hope hope hope that you are still enjoying this story, even if it is moving at a slower pace than I had expected. It works so well for me to write in shorter spurts, and once I'm done I CAN'T WAIT to share it with you, my friends. 
> 
> Anyway, all of this to say that if I'm driving you crazy, you're not alone?! haha I'm driving myself crazy, too.
> 
> Thanks for hanging with me and giving me love and life in the comments - y'all are the best ever ever.
> 
> M


	7. As I Wended the Shores I Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *****  
> She shook her head. “Don’t be silly! I’ll be a whole lot warmer if you come and share my blanket with me.” The invitation hung in the air a moment too long and made both of their cheeks pink. 
> 
> Finally Gilbert was able to move his feet toward her, and he sat down next to her - their legs touching from thigh to calf, their hips pressed together. Anne reached across his lap and drew the blanket back up, this time around both of them, and Gilbert shivered at the way her arm lightly brushed against his torso. 
> 
> Anne hooked her arm through his, and pulled him gently into a reclined position, both of their heads laying against the soft hay, their eyes on the roof beams above them.   
> *****

Diana and Anne walked arm-in-arm through the deep snow on the way back to Green Gables. The vast fields to their right, thickly blanketed with an untouched covering of sparkling snow, gave Anne the deliciously haunting feeling that she and Diana were the only two people left on earth. The thought made Anne shiver once from head to foot, and Diana turned her smiling face toward her. Anne smiled back, not wanting to break the spell of the peaceful scene around them by talking.

Walking Diana up to the open doorway of the barn, Anne hugged her quickly, then took both of her gloved hands and looked into her shining brown eyes. “Tell him how you feel. Don’t hold back - just be totally honest, Diana. You are enough, and Jerry cares for you. It will be okay.” 

Diana’s eyes glassed over with tears, but she fixed her lips determinedly and nodded. Anne kissed her quickly on the cheek and turned toward home. Opening the door, she shook off her boots and began to remove her hat, scarf, and gloves calling, “Marilla! I’m back and ready to tackle the mincemeat pies! I believe that we should double the recipe since Bash nearly ate an entire pie himself again last…”

She trailed off as she rounded the corner to find Marilla and Rachel Lynde sitting together at the kitchen table, hands warming around hot cups of tea. 

“Oh, Anne! You’ve grown again, and it's only been a few weeks since I saw you last!” Rachel Lynde stood to embrace the girl with fondness. 

Anne laughed, “I assure you, I haven’t! It’s just that you still aren’t used to seeing me in these long dresses, Mrs. Lynde.” 

“And neither am I, for that matter,” Marilla added. “Every time you come into a room I have to remind myself that it’s you, Anne, and not some mysterious intruder!” The women all laughed lightly as Anne took a seat next to Marilla, placing her hand on the matriarch’s arm. 

“I believe you’ll both only see me in braids and short-dresses until I’m old and grey,” Anne teased, raising her eyebrows at both women and silently daring them to deny it. They laughed again, and the warmth of the sound thawed the chill out of Anne’s appendages, leaving her cozy and content. 

“Rachel just came by to deliver some news from town,” Marilla informed Anne, turning back toward her friend. 

“Ah, yes. That.” Rachel worked herself up to her full height while remaining seated - pushing her shoulders back and wiggling in her seat - prolonging the moment of suspense before sharing the juicy tidbit of information she had hiked through the snow to deliver. 

“I was just down at the town hall rehearsing with the children one last time when Mrs. Gillis popped in to say hello, and… well…” Anne and Marilla unconsciously leaned toward Rachel. “Moody and Ruby are engaged to be married!” 

_____

Gilbert woke with a start when something shook the table loudly beneath his arm. He raised his head swiftly, looking around with startled, sleepy eyes, trying to figure out where he was and what was going on. 

“Ahhh, he lives!” Bash stood at his shoulder, having just banged a large, white serving dish onto the tabletop. The smell was incredible, and Gilbert’s stomach rumbled. 

“How- where… what time is it?” Gilbert ran his fingers through his hair, then stretched his arms wide and shook his head quickly. 

“It’s suppertime,” Bash announced. 

Gilbert stood to help gather dishes and set the table. Delly was playing on the floor next to Elijah, who was shaking a rattle next to her, and Hazel was busily delivering the bits and pieces of the meal. 

“Christmas Rice and Pigeon Peas!” she announced proudly, setting down the final dish alongside the large, ceramic water pitcher. She removed the lid and the smell hit Gilbert immediately - his stomach didn’t rumble so much as it  _ roared  _ with hunger. 

Elijah brought Delphine to the table with him, and, once everyone was seated, they joined hands and bowed their heads. 

“Lord, for this meal, and all that you have given us - especially the safe homecoming of Gilbert - let us be truly grateful. Amen.” Bash intoned, then hands were released as heads were raised, and the dishes were passed around the table. 

“So, Gilbert. When ya gonna make things between you and that red-headed snippet of yours official?” Hazel questioned, looking up at Gilbert once everyone’s plates were filled, her lips pursed and her eyes smiling. 

“I-- uhhh…” Gilbert had grown closer to Mrs. Lacroix in the days before he left for Toronto, but their relationship had never involved teasing smirks and knowing looks before now. 

“Ma, let the boy wake up a bit and get some food in him before his growling stomach brings the house down around us!” Bash smiled broadly, enjoying not being the butt of his mother’s aptitude for direct questions this once. 

“No, it’s okay. I… I brought my mother’s ring with me. Just in case… I’d like to ask Anne when the time is right. I… I want it to be perfect.” Gilbert’s stomach was suddenly full of fluttering nervousness, and he set down his fork. 

Elijah looked up from the spoon he was holding up to Delly’s lips, grinning and saying, “Whoa. You two boys like to move quickly when it comes to the ladies! Me? I like to take my time. You want to make sure she is the right one before she pins you down, don’t you?” 

Sebastian remained smiling, but a wistful shining entered his eyes as he answered. “It took me less than five minutes to be sure.” The room grew quiet - only the crackling of the fire and the smacking of Delphine’s lips as she reached out and took the spoon from Elijah’s still hand could be heard.

Then Bash’s smile grew teasing and he added, “Plus, Blythe has been  _ dead gone _ over this girl since well before I met him! You shoulda seen him on the ship, singin’ at the top of his lungs about kissing girls, then tellin’ me stories about this  _ fiery-tempered redhead  _ on the first night I knew him!” 

Gilbert felt his ears grow warm, and he reached back down for his fork - more for something to do with his hands than because his appetite had returned to him. “I wouldn’t exactly put it that way…” he murmured to his peas. 

Bash laughed once - an incredulous sound, and Gilbert looked up to find the adults at the table smiling slyly at him. “Bash, please. Tease me all you like, but… tomorrow night. In front of Anne’s family. Please don’t say anything that will embarrass Anne.” 

Bash barked another loud laugh. “Oh  _ please  _ yourself, Blythe! It isn’t Anne that I aim to embarrass! It’s about time she knew all about your moonin’ over her for all this time! I just want to make sure the poor girl knows what she is gettin’ into with you. She needs to hear about the way you carefully wrote her that love letter on the ship! And what about you comin’ home to ferociously cut into a whole mess of carrots and talkin’ ‘bout catching  _ feelings  _ after one dance rehearsal at school?” 

Everyone was laughing now. Gilbert shook his head and said, “Okay, okay. But, trust me. By now she knows - both what a fool I am  _ and _ that I am ‘ _ dead gone _ ’ over her.” 

“Well then,” Bash’s grin turned wicked, and he reached over to scruff Gilbert on the top of his head. “It’s time  _ Marilla and Matthew _ knew all about it, then.” 

_____

The sun had set too early, as it always did in the long Canadian winter, and Anne had just finished drying the last of the dinner dishes when she heard Matthew sit down at the table behind her. Marilla had gone to bed after dinner with a headache - Anne had helped her into bed and placed a tall glass of water on her nightstand before demanding that she not spare another thought for her Christmas Feast and imploring her to rest. 

Anne smiled over her shoulder at Matthew, setting down the plate she was drying, and teased, “So, do you have another big part in the Christmas Panto this year, or…” 

“Never, never again.” His face broke out into a grin, and he met her eyes for the briefest of moments. In them, Anne felt all of the love and affection she had stored up for eleven long and lonely years reflected back. She never knew she would find as much love as she had to give and more radiating from Matthew every single day. 

Anne sat across from him and reached to place her hand on top of his. He slipped out one hand to place it on top of hers, sandwiching her small hand between his, and her smile grew. 

“Say, I saw Diana in the barn today. Looked like she and Jerry were having a serious talk, so I left them to it.” Matthew’s clipped, quiet way of speaking always brought Anne back to her first moments with him - how she had wondered if she was speaking entirely too much, or if maybe, just maybe, she had found the perfect parent for her, there next to the quiet, steady Matthew.

She sighed audibly and answered, “Yes, I’m sure it  _ was  _ serious. They… she wants to be Jerry’s friend, but had made some… errors in judgment… that needed correcting. I hope they worked things out at last.” 

Matthew nodded, and it was a long moment before he spoke again. “Seems like you and Gilbert have really  _ worked things out at last _ , eh?” 

Anne felt too warm suddenly and knew her cheeks had turned pink. After another long moment she looked into Matthew’s eyes. “Yes, I believe we have. Oh, Matthew. It is… it’s just  _ splendid _ to be in love. And… and to have the person you love return your feelings. It’s just…”

“Splendid.” Matthew’s eyes were trained back on their hands, and he added, so quietly that she had to lean forward slightly to hear him, “I just hope you two can take things slow for a bit.” 

Anne froze, and after a moment Matthew continued. “It’s just… your friends getting engaged… You were just in pigtails and now…” 

“Oh, Matthew. Trust me! Gilbert has so much medical school left, and I-- I have my dreams. To graduate. To teach. I am… we are…  _ not _ … And-- and he hasn’t even  _ mentioned _ anything like… about  _ marriage _ or…”

Anne stopped her panicked rambling when she felt Matthew squeeze her hand, and looked up to find him smiling down at her. 

“Okay. Okay, good.” He patted their hands, then let her go as he stood and stretched. “Well, I’m headed to bed, I guess. See you in the morning.” 

Anne nodded dazedly, not lifting her eyes from the table where they were fixed. She felt shell-shocked and numb - her head buzzed with a hundred different questions and emotions. A loud  _ crack _ from the dying fire nearby made her jump, and she stood resolutely, brushing her hands down the front of her apron as if to dust the confusion from her. 

Looking up at the clock, she realized that she still had half an hour before she was to meet Gilbert - just enough time to finish putting away the dishes and put out the fire, and hopefully more than enough time for Matthew to fall asleep. 

_____

Gilbert was five minutes early, but Anne was earlier. 

As he climbed the ladder into the loft, he followed the light of a softly glowing lantern to the place where she sat, wrapped in a blanket and reading a novel. She put the book down and smiled hugely at him, then opened her blanket and spread it next to her, patting the place she had made for him to sit down. 

Gilbert hesitated - his heart was beating faster just from looking at her, from finding her here waiting for him, and it stuck his feet fast to the ground beneath him. 

“No, it’s -- won’t you be cold? I can sit on the…”  _ Why _ did his brain fail him every time when it came to her? 

She shook her head. “Don’t be silly! I’ll be a whole lot warmer if you come and share my blanket with me.” The invitation hung in the air a moment too long and made both of their cheeks pink. 

Finally Gilbert was able to move his feet toward her, and he sat down next to her - their legs touching from thigh to calf, their hips pressed together. Anne reached across his lap and drew the blanket back up, this time around both of them, and Gilbert shivered at the way her arm lightly brushed against his torso. 

Anne hooked her arm through his, and pulled him gently into a reclined position, both of their heads laying against the soft hay, their eyes on the roof beams above them. 

“How was your day?” Anne’s voice was quiet, as though the night was a spell and the volume of voices could break it, make it all disappear in a flash of smoke. 

“At this moment? Incredible.” He turned his head toward hers, and showed her his cheeky smirk. Their faces were so close, their noses were almost touching. She smiled at him, then lay her head against his shoulder. “Otherwise, it was excellent. I took a nap on the kitchen table, then ate some amazing Trinidadian fare, then I counted the minutes until I could see you. Which leads me back to incredible… How about yours?” 

“My day was fairly wonderful. I baked and cleaned and baked some more. I saw my bosom friend, and Mrs. Lynde. Oh!” Anne exclaimed, sitting upright and looking over at Gilbert, unhooking their arms and putting her hand on his arm just beneath his shoulder. 

“Oh, you’ll never believe the news Mrs. Lynde brought! Moody and Ruby… they got  _ engaged _ today!” Anne’s eyes were wide with the incredulity of her announcement. 

Gilbert, however, was not shocked in the slightest. He merely grinned widely, happy for his besotted friend. His grin grew wider, still, as he remembered the way a young Ruby had clung to his every word for so long, and he was suddenly doubly glad for both Moody and his intended. And for himself: he didn’t need to be the first of their Avonlea cohort to get engaged, but he was glad to know he would soon follow afterward. 

The velvet bag in his jacket pocket seemed to pulse against his ribcage, but he easily ignored it. Now wasn’t the time - not in response to someone else’s happy news. 

He was about to open his mouth and share with Anne how glad he was - maybe even joke about the relief he felt at Ruby’s affections finally having found a more worthy target - when Anne spoke again, and she sounded… agitated. 

“I mean, can you  _ believe _ it?! I  _ know  _ that they feel strongly for one another, but, really! Moody is only, what,  _ seventeen _ ?! And Ruby is four months younger than me! Mrs. Lynde says that Moody plans to go to school to become a minister at Redmond College next year, and Ruby will  _ abandon her studies  _ at Queens to  _ follow  _ him there!  _ Why  _ can’t they stay engaged for an extra year?! Then she could get her teaching degree, and she could work while Moody finished school, and then…” Anne stopped briefly here to draw breath, then continued her diatribe.    
  


“ _ Tell  _ me,  _ what _ on  _ earth  _ is the rush?! And  _ how _ could Ruby give up her  _ education _ just to go off and follow some  _ boy!  _ They both are  _ much _ too young to be married -- to be… to become  _ parents _ !” 

Gilbert had sat upright at this point, and the blissful contentment he had felt warm inside of him just moments before seemed to have burst, leaving his chest feeling raw and achy. The silence after Anne’s tirade lasted a few long breaths before Gilbert could speak. 

“Anne, that seems really unfair. I mean… when two people love each other, and they both… Maybe Moody can see his future clearly, and they both know what they want out of life, and they…” 

“ _ Gilbert _ ! They are  _ children _ ! They are babies wanting to merely  _ play house.  _ I mean, okay. They aren’t  _ babies _ , exactly, but just  _ barely _ ! What’s wrong with taking things  _ slowly _ ? They could court long-distance for a few years, and then another year or two being engaged wouldn’t  _ kill  _ anyone! Mrs. Lynde says they want to be married  _ this summer _ ! Can you even…” The hurt and panic on Gilbert’s face finally seemed to penetrate Anne’s consciousness, and she stopped suddenly, then reached out to touch his arm gently. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I don’t mean this as a judgment on your near-engagement with Winnifred. I mean, she was… older… and you had a… a plan. A  _ bright  _ plan for a  _ bright _ future where you both would no doubt have accomplished all of your goals quite happily, and…”

Anne trailed off, remembering with a stab to her heart how she had very nearly lost the boy next to her to another girl, another continent, another life. Her eyes filled with tenderness, and she reached for his cheek, but he was gone, suddenly. On his feet, standing over her. 

“Anne, don’t you…” His hands were shaking, and he held them together to try to stop the awful feeling quivering in his stomach. “Haven’t you… have you even thought… about… with us? For me? I--” He snapped his mouth closed before he could squeak out more nonsense. 

Gilbert took a deep breath in through his nose, closing his eyes and releasing the air back out slowly through his lips. 

When he opened his eyes to look back down at Anne, he found her ocean blue eyes wide-open, her brows drawn together in confusion. They were both silent for a long minute, then she reached up and grabbed both of his hands, pulling him toward her gently. He acquiesced to her silent request, and sat back down nearby, leaving much more space between them this time. 

“I’m so, so sorry, Gilbert.” Anne’s eyes were wide as they held his. “I didn’t think - didn’t realize how my rambling would -- how you might think that I was speaking about you. And Winnifred. I… I want you to know that I truly harbor no hurt feelings about any of that.” 

Gilbert shook his head slowly, finding it impossible to tell her that he wasn’t upset because he felt judged harshly for nearly proposing to Winnifred. That wasn’t it at all. 

Before he could clear his head and gather his thoughts, she had inched herself forward until her ear was placed against his chest, her arms winding around his waist. He remained frozen for another brief moment, then he wrapped one arm around her back, the other went to the back of her head, holding her to him. He bent his head down to kiss the top of hers, and he left his lips there, breathing in the sweet scent of her. 

He didn’t say anything - didn’t tell her that his upset had nothing to do with the past and everything to do with the future; didn’t tell her about the ring in his pocket that now felt like a lead weight; didn’t tell her that he longed to put that ring - his mother’s only lasting heirloom - around her finger and bind her to him in every way; didn’t say that he wanted to do it soon - wanted to do it yesterday. 

After a while, Gilbert pulled her onto his chest as he reclined once more in the hay. When she shivered, he reached behind her to pull the blanket up and over them both. They lay in silence - hers peaceful, listening to the sound of him breathing in one ear, the rhythm of his heartbeat beneath the other; his troubled, uncertain for the first time since Anne had kissed him back on that sunny day in Charlottetown. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my loves! 
> 
> Gosh, I hope you like this chapter! I really enjoyed writing it for you. 
> 
> If you liked it, will you do me a favor? I feel like I have gotten to know so many of you little by little in the comments of these chapters - would you tell me something about you? Something you love, something you hate, something you recently ate... I mean, it doesn't have to rhyme. Unless... you've got the time?
> 
> haha okay, sorry. I watched The Princess Bride last night, and that is my weak excuse for just revealing myself to be a TOTAL dork to you all. So there's my tidbit. Oh! And I have spent a RIDICULOUS amount of time reading Star Wars fics lately. 
> 
> Aaaaanyway, I love you and I thank you and I'm going to bed. Oh! And you're wonderful! Phew, almost forgot that one. 
> 
> xoxoxo  
> M


	8. Sweeter Than Common Joy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *****  
> Gilbert looked at her with shining eyes, but Anne did not find mirth in them any longer - he was looking at her with the most heart-stoppingly fond expression that she found she couldn’t exhale. 
> 
> “No. No, not a mess. You were… you are…” He moved toward her, winding his hands around her waist slowly, almost pruriently. He suddenly pulled her recklessly close - not caring that they were standing just outside of the Green Gables kitchen window in broad daylight - and buried his face in her neck, breathing in her scent deeply and placing a long, soft kiss at the spot where her neck met her shoulders near the collar of her dress. “Irresistible.”  
> *****

The next morning, Anne had just finished helping Marilla gather the breakfast dishes when Gilbert knocked on the door and invited Anne on a walk. Grinning hugely, Anne turned to Marilla and promised that she would be back soon to help with dinner preparations. Marilla laughed and waved her hands at both of them, saying, “Go. Go! Some fresh air will probably keep you from setting something on fire or putting liniment in the cake later on or some such nonsense.” 

Gilbert was still chuckling at the reminder a minute later when Anne was dressed and they were headed down the walk. Anne stopped for a moment, turning toward him with her hands on her hips. “Gilbert Blythe, I had a  _ terrible _ head cold when I made that cake! And you came over and saw me all-- and… and  _ then _ I broke the brand new vanilla bottle, so I hunted out an old vanilla bottle in the pantry that Marilla had put liniment in  _ without changing the label _ . And  _ all of this _ while finally realizing that I had a  _ hopeless  _ crush on you!  _ Anyone _ would have made the same mistake!”

Gilbert was fully laughing now, his eyes filling with tears at the picture she painted mixing with his memory of the judges’ faces as they had tasted her cake. 

“Goodness, I really was a hopeless mess,” Anne relented, beginning to laugh herself. 

Gilbert looked at her with shining eyes, but Anne did not find mirth in them any longer - he was looking at her with the most heart-stoppingly fond expression that she found she couldn’t exhale. 

“No. No, not a mess. You were… you  _ are _ …” He moved toward her, winding his hands around her waist slowly, almost pruriently. He suddenly pulled her recklessly close - not caring that they were standing just outside of the Green Gables kitchen window in broad daylight - and buried his face in her neck, breathing in her scent deeply and placing a long, soft kiss at the spot where her neck met her shoulders near the collar of her dress. “ _ Irresistible _ .”

Anne felt herself flush from her forehead to her chest, and she melted into the sudden heat that sprang up from her middle. She leaned into his embrace for a moment, and then he was gone - back to holding her hand at arm's length, pulling her gently along the path after him. Her head spun, but she found herself smiling as she caught up to his strolling stride. 

As they walked down the lane, Anne wondered idly whether he had a destination in mind. She breathed in the crisp, cold air which helped to clear her head and kept her cheeks pink, focusing on the beautiful, wintry woods around her instead of the lingering heat that had spread from her stomach to her limbs, making her feel as though she were floating instead of walking alongside Gilbert. 

_ Gilbert Blythe _ . She was walking hand-in-hand down the same path she had taken every day with the only boy she had ever… the only one who had ever made her… Anne felt the floating feeling enter her head, and was grateful for the steady, gentle pressure of his hand in hers to keep her from leaving the ground entirely.

Rooted. Winged. 

Anne sighed audibly, and Gilbert turned to look at her, a question in his eyes. 

_____

Gilbert’s mind was churning stormily - red-tinged and looping through the same thoughts over and over. 

_ Anne. Mine. Slow. Take it easy. Shouldn’t have kissed. Want. Want to... Want her forever. Don’t say forever. Don’t propose. Don’t drive her away. Keep her here with you. Keep her close. Mine. Anne.  _

He heard her sigh, and turned to look at her, about to ask what she was thinking, but afraid of her answer. 

“It’s such a beautiful day, isn’t it?” Anne’s tone was conversational, but her eyes held his, and the look in them made his stomach clench tightly, made the same heat that had overtaken him in her yard, nearly made bowl him over once more.

He nodded back at her, unable to trust himself to open his mouth - afraid he would drop to his knees and tell her the depth of his feelings for her and scare her away forever. 

She didn’t want to get married. Not yet. And that was fine. It was  _ fine _ . They were so  _ young _ . Had so much  _ school  _ \- so many  _ dreams _ \- so, so much  _ time _ . Gilbert could just enjoy his time with her. He didn’t have to pin her down. He had her - he wanted her to have whatever she wanted. He only wanted her. 

Last night in the barn, Gilbert had bade Anne goodnight with a distracted air, then he walked home in the bracing, below-freezing air and spent the rest of the night staring up at his ceiling, trying to convince himself that she didn’t mean she doesn’t want to marry him  _ ever _ . That her diatribe against marriage wasn’t directed at  _ him _ . That they were still young. 

When he rose with the sun, he had calmed himself, convinced himself that he could simply live in the moment with her. Convinced himself that he could take it at her pace. Told himself to enjoy every moment. He set out for Green Gables determined to speak with Anne about his feelings for her, and his hopes for the future. He wouldn’t propose - he didn’t need to - but he would make sure that she knew his intentions for a future together, for a someday proposal. He wouldn’t let missed chances and miscommunication foul things up with her. Not again. 

Then he saw her in her kitchen - eyes still a little sleepy, hair down and gently curling past her shoulders, and he  _ ached _ for a certain future with her so badly that it felt like he would dissolve on the spot from  _ wanting _ . He wanted her to be his, wanted to see her in the morning, wanted her in his bed, wanted his ring on her finger, wanted her old and gray by his side, wanted her  _ his his his _ . He wanted to know for sure. 

Gilbert found that he and Anne were nearing the schoolhouse, and he wondered at himself for leading her here without having meant to. Being back at the place where he had first introduced himself to Anne, first watched her blush, first heard her passion-filled voice, first touched her hand… the love and lust and desperation and waiting and  _ wanting _ that were at-war inside of him broke free at once, and he broke. 

_____

Anne smiled when she saw the new building where the old, beloved school had been. She was about to open her mouth to point out the improvements that had been built to Ms. Stacy’s specifications when she felt Gilbert’s hands on her waist again. 

She turned just in time to meet her lips to his, to feel his body to crash into hers. She shuffled backward from his weight, and found herself pinned between the cold, hard facade of the schoolhouse and his warm, soft, pressing body. She felt his hands leave her waist to pull his gloves quickly off of his hands, then she felt him grip her higher, tighter than before. 

His hands were on her ribcage, and they were not still. Neither was his mouth - he parted her lips with his, breathing a hot, shaky breath into her mouth that almost sounded like he was breathing out one word:  _ Anne _ . She felt the residual heat that he had pressed into her neck with his kiss at Green Gables ignite into a searing flame that licked out from her stomach as his tongue licked her bottom lip lightly, then his teeth bit her there softly. 

Her mind was suddenly emptied of all thought as her body took control. She brought her hands up to his hair and pressed him closer to her without needing to - he was already pressed up as closely against her as he could be. His teeth grazed her bottom lip again, and suddenly she was kissing him back, her tongue reaching out to meet his - tentatively at first, and then hotly; urgently. 

She felt his moan in her lips, where it hit her first and then quaked across her body in a rolling shockwave of heat. He pressed her harder against the school building, his hips pressing into hers, his thumbs rubbing just beneath her chest. She ached all over, but not from the pressure - it wasn’t enough. She wanted more. 

His lips moved from hers to her jaw, moving toward her ear and then beginning a descent down her neck. Anne opened her mouth to breathe in, but his teeth grazed the hollow at the base of her throat and her breath hitched. 

“Oh, Gil…” she sighed out quietly, rapturously. Her fingers pressed into his shoulders where she was hanging onto him for dear life. 

“Anne… Anne… Anne…” He breathed her name into her neck and then he was kissing her lips again, a frantic, desperate energy emanating off of him. 

“Anne,” his voice hitched over the word this time, and Anne’s mind snapped back into control, his reckless kisses signalling his desperation and distress in her mind - the realization finally penetrating through the fog of lust around her. 

Her hands gently pressed against his shoulders instead of gripping them to her, and his lips broke away from her instantly, his face still close to hers, their bodies still pressed together. His eyes were all dark - his pupils blown wide - but the way his eyebrows moved together conveyed a question. 

“Gil,” Anne panted, trying to slow and control her breathing. “Gilbert, are you… is this…” she couldn’t quite come up with the words she wanted to say, the questions she needed to ask him, with his body against hers this way. “Let’s… let’s take a break?” 

His eyebrows drew down slightly, shadowing his black eyes and making him look almost menacing. He looked down at her lips for a moment that felt like an eternity to Anne, who almost lost her composure and gave into the hunger of that look. Then he pressed a hand against the school behind Anne and stood upright. 

The absence of him was replaced by a swift, rushing cold that cleared Anne’s foggy head. He didn’t move far - giving her only a few inches of space between their bodies, but it was enough for her to form coherent thoughts once more. They worked to slow their breathing, both of them looking down at the ground. After another interminable moment, Anne placed her hand on Gilbert’s chest over his heart, and felt the quick rhythm of it there like a battering ram against her hand. She smiled with her lips closed, and looked up into his eyes. 

“Gil, that was… you are… I am so, very in love with you, my darling.” Her voice was soft, barely audible even from this distance. “But we…I-- Is everything… okay?” 

_____

It wasn’t what she said, but the hesitation in her voice - the worry - that caused Gilbert to bring his mind back from the dark, desperate, hungry place inside of him that had taken over his body. He snapped to attention almost like being awoken from a dream - or maybe a nightmare - and he felt a hot rush of shame wash over him. He closed his eyes tight, squeezing them against the sick dropping feeling in the pit of his stomach. Trying desperately to slow his heart-rate and control his breathing, Gilbert took a few slow, steady pulls of air in through his nose then slowly out of his lips. 

Screwing up his courage, he opened his eyes again to meet Anne’s. The concern and love he found there nearly brought him to his knees. He sagged against the weight of guilt and fear that overtook him, and he felt her drawing him toward the schoolhouse steps and sitting him down upon them. He felt her weight settle next to him - right up against his side - and took comfort in her nearness. 

“Anne, I-- I’m so-- I didn’t mean to--” He took another deep breath, releasing it in one heavy puff of white fog in front of him. 

“Oh, Anne. I’m sorry. I… last night, when you told me that you didn’t want to… and then you’re just so-- and I want to… Anne, I’m sorry I kissed you like that. I’m so, so sorry.” 

Gilbert felt suddenly like shouting or throwing something or crying or running away. Nothing was coming out right, but he needed Anne to know that he would never take advantage of her like that again. He collapsed forward, his breath coming out in a  _ whoosh _ . He wanted to disappear. 

“Gil.” Her voice was so soft, so sweet and kind, that his head snapped up from where he had hung it between his knees. He found her gazing at him gently, her lips smiling slightly. 

“Gilbert Blythe, I have never felt so loved and so…  _ wanted _ … as you make me feel. If you owe me an apology, then I owe you one, too, because I didn’t want you to stop. It… Gilbert. You are…” She couldn’t seem to finish her thought, and the bubbling guilt in Gilbert’s stomach was quieted by a usually eloquent Anne being made speechless by her feelings for him. 

“But, darling. You seemed… is everything alright? I would have stayed happily pinned between you and the schoolhouse all morning, but you seemed… troubled.” The concern in her eyes intensified, and she reached out soothingly to smooth his hair back from his forehead. 

Gilbert forced himself to meet her gaze as he opened his mouth to answer her. “Anne, I’m… scared. I’m so afraid. Of… of losing you.” 

His words hung there between them for a moment, and Gilbert’s insides twisted together once more. It wasn’t everything he had wanted to say to her, but it got to the root of the problem well enough. He was afraid - afraid of time and distance and desires and his inability to give her everything he wanted to. He had never felt so uncertain, never had wanted anything more, and the violent conflict of the two inside of him was eating away at him. 

He watched as his confession settled over her. Her eyes grew wider, and he thought he saw her swallow back an impulse to lighten the mood - to tease or give a lighthearted reply. After a moment of silent contemplation, her expression grew very serious, and she lowered her chin, pressing her forehead into his, both of their eyes closing. She breathed in one long, deep breath, and held it for another long moment. 

“I know that feeling, Gil,” she breathed out, the air hitting his lips and cheeks and making him lean forward slightly. “I have wanted so many things in my life - home, family, love,  _ belonging _ . I have all of them now - more than I ever dreamed I could have - and it…” Her inhale sounded slightly shaky. “It’s  _ terrifying _ to think of losing it.  _ Any  _ of it.  _ All  _ of it.” 

Gilbert felt his breath hitch in his chest as her words settled around him. She knew. She understood.  _ Of course _ she did. 

“And that… that was before  _ you _ \- before  _ us _ , Gil. Now… It keeps me up at night, sometimes. The fear. The…  _ desperation _ .  _ And  _ the hope. It’s all… It’s a lot. So much. More than any one person deserves - the loveliness of being loved by you.” He sat up to look at her face, and he found her smiling softly, almost sadly at him. She took off a glove in her lap, then reached out to touch his cheek with her fingertips. “Terrifyingly, incandescently lovely.” 

“Anne,” he exhaled, relief surging through him as he relaxed into her soft touch. She had put his vast, inexpressible feelings into words, and he felt a weight leave his shoulders that he didn’t know he had been carrying. 

“It’s okay, darling. It will all be okay,” she soothed him quietly, and he closed his eyes, inhaling her words and scent and solace deeply. “I love you, Gilbert Blythe.” 

He went from feeling a lead weight in his chest, to feeling lighter than air, and he reached out for her hands to hold himself steady. He felt her quiet, sure grip on him and knew that it was enough.

Gilbert leaned forward, holding her eyes with his, closing them at the last second and placing a sweet, chaste kiss on her lips. “I love you, Anne.” 

He pulled back just enough to be able to stare into her wide, blue eyes once more, drinking her in with his eyes like a tonic to everything that had ever ailed him. “I love you,” he repeated steadily. “And I had better take you home before Marilla comes looking for us both.” 

_____

They held hands again on the way home, this time both of them at peace and in their right minds. They spoke softly, happily, of the coming holiday. 

  
“I’m not quite as excited to see what Father Christmas will bring me this year as I am  _ curious _ about what a certain dark-eyed boy has for me…” she teased, bumping her shoulder into his as they ambled along. “Especially after your perfect track record with Christmas gifts...”

He chuckled, squeezing her hand and saying sternly, “No hints.” 

Anne’s lower lip jutted out comically, and she turned wide, imploring eyes on him. “None? Really?! Not even if I ask you really, really nicely?” She pulled his hand toward her, and her body brushed against his lightly. He glanced down at her torso, then back up to her face where he found her batting her eyelashes at him - a trick she had learned from Ruby, no doubt. 

Gilbert laughed again, louder this time. “Nice try.” 

Anne stopped them both abruptly, pulled him to her roughly, threw her arms around his neck and kissed him passionately and much,  _ much  _ too briefly. 

“Not even one?” she breathed a quiet laugh onto his face. 

Gilbert remained frozen in place while blood boiled through him, electrifying his body with her sudden nearness. 

She leaned back to look into his eyes, and the merriment he found in hers gave him the will to step away from her. He shook his head quickly, then turned mock-disapproving eyes on her. 

“I’m actually thinking of taking your gift back to Toronto, now that you mention it,” he threatened, but his voice broke at the onset and ruined the menace he tried to put into his words. 

She laughed again, taking his hand and dragging him forward with her. After a moment, they heard voices ahead and came upon a sight that made Anne’s heart swell in her chest. 

Diana and Jerry were wandering, her arm tucked into his, down the path toward Anne and Gilbert. They were engaged in quiet conversation, neither of them smiling, but both of them somehow oozing contentment. 

“Diana! Jerry! How lovely to see you  _ both _ !” Anne enthused, catching the other couple off-guard and causing them to drop their entwined arms. 

They both smiled at Anne, and the girls rushed toward each other to embrace. 

“Hello!” Gilbert greeted Jerry over the girl’s heads. “Lovely morning, isn’t it?” 

Jerry grinned back at him. “ _ Oui _ , it is very beautiful out today.” His eyes fell, resting on Diana as he finished speaking. 

The four of them paused and conversed lightly, Anne holding in all of the questions that burned inside of her, as well as the joy she felt at seeing her two dear friends at peace together. 

“We should let you get back to your stroll!” Anne was speaking a bit too loudly, smiling wide. 

“Yes, I will come up to Green Gables to say hello a little later,” Diana smiled shyly. The two girls embraced again, and Diana’s hand came up to smooth down the back of Anne’s hair. Their eyes met meaningfully as they pulled apart - each thinking of the quiet, giggle-filled confessions ahead of them. 

“Bye Jerry!” Anne called loudly, waving. “Have a nice day!” 

Her grin was wider still as she reached out to take Gilbert’s hand and they started on their way home again. She squeezed his hand, saying quietly, “I simply cannot  _ wait _ to hear that story.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMGeeeee I thought I couldn't love y'all more, and then... 
> 
> Thank you so, SO much for all of your awesome comments. It was the best part of my week - getting to know a little bit about you all! We share SO MUCH in common that it is actually kinda crazy. Or maybe it's not crazy at all. Either way, I love it and you too much! 
> 
> This chapter got a lil bit ermm steamy there - sorry 'bout that. Or you're welcome. Or both. 
> 
> Since I can't seem to make up my mind with you today, I will say something good and decisive here: This is the best fandom ever. 
> 
> There, that was better. 
> 
> Feel free to keep the love (and confessions) coming in the comments - you know by now that I positively live off of your kindness and feedback like the sad lil ShirbertShipper I am and always have been. 
> 
> xoxoxox  
> M


	9. Sounds of the Winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *****  
> After another moment, Anne’s job was done for her as a strong voice rang out across the table. “Well, I for one have heard simply marvelous things about Gilbert’s aptitude at school from my friend, Emily, so I dare say that he is well on his way past any - erm - struggles he has had with needles in the past!” Muriel Stacy threw a sidelong glance at Sebastian from down the long table, and he gave her a sheepish grin, nodding once. 
> 
> “Yes, Ms. Stacy. I believe that Gilbert is making a name for himself there in Toronto, and not just for his handiness in a crisis! Speaking of his handiness, thought, did I ever tell you about the time he made me assist in the delivery of a back alley baby?"  
> *****

“Next thing I knew, the moke was layin’ flat on his back! And all from the appearance of one tiny needle! He went in talkin’ about ‘I want to be a doctor’ and within six seconds he was out cold!” 

Sebastian leaned back in his chair and soaked in the laughter that was echoing from around the crowded table. When the appraisal of his story-telling ability showed him both Matthew and Elijah wiping tears from their eyes in their mirth, he felt his grin broaden with deep satisfaction. Finally, he turned to the seat next to him to find Gilbert, and found him leaning forward, his elbows on the table with his face buried in his hands. Bash knew that he was blushing from the pink-tipped ears that stuck out above his hands, and reached out to slap Gilbert jovially on the back. 

Anne sat across the table from Gilbert, and she held her napkin to her lips as she tried to suppress the giggles that bubbled up from her chest every few seconds. She wanted to come to Gilbert’s rescue and change the subject away from her blushing beau - after all, Bash had been going on for at least five minutes and the poor boy deserved a break - but she found herself caught between her laughter and the desire she felt to hear all that she could - certain as she was that these were stories Gilbert would never willingly tell himself. She couldn’t stop herself from laughing, but she also found herself looking up at Gilbert every few seconds with a new, awestruck feeling in her chest.

After another moment, Anne’s job was done for her as a strong voice rang out across the table. “Well, I for one have heard simply  _ marvelous _ things about Gilbert’s aptitude at school from my friend, Emily, so I dare say that he is well on his way past any - erm -  _ struggles  _ he has had with needles in the past!” Muriel Stacy threw a sidelong glance at Sebastian from down the long table, and he gave her a sheepish grin, nodding once. 

“Yes, Ms. Stacy. I believe that Gilbert is making a name for himself there in Toronto, and not just for his handiness in a crisis! Speaking of his handiness, thought, did I ever tell you about the time he made me assist in the delivery of a back alley baby? Blythe, what’s that thing called again - when the child is all topsy-turvy? This boy washed his hands with a splash of rum, and then he started trying to --” 

“I believe it’s just about time for dessert, don’t you agree?” Marilla’s voice was tinged with panic as she called out over Sebastian. Elijah’s shoulders shook harder with laughter when he looked up at Marilla’s wide eyes, and Sebastian paused to look up from his hands - which he had been holding out in front of him as he mimed the curve of a pregnant stomach - and found not only Marilla’s distress, but his mother’s glare waiting for him, telegraphing her disapproval. He let his hands fall slowly, his grin growing impossibly wider still. 

“Why, yes! I believe you’re right, Miss Marilla! Allow me to assist you with--” Sebastian placed his hands on the table and began to rise, but Gilbert was faster. 

“No, let me help.  _ Please _ .” He looked as though he could leave through the front door and keep walking for days, if only to escape this room and his bright pink cheeks, but Marilla smiled at him, leading the way into the pantry where she began to uncover pie plates. 

“I’m so sorry about that, Ms. Cuthbert, I--” Gilbert apologized as Marilla faced him to place a custard pie in one of Gilbert’s hands, a rhubarb jam pie into the other. 

“Gilbert, don’t be silly.” Marilla interrupted him with fondness in her voice. “Sebastian loves to tease. And he has  _ missed _ you.” She reached up with one hand and patted him softly on the cheek. 

Warmth pierced Gilbert’s heart as he looked into the matriarch’s kind eyes. He had always liked Marilla Cuthbert enormously, but he was moved by the sudden and easy affection she showed him as she held his gaze for a moment, then patted his cheek once more and chided with a glint in her eye, “And call me Marilla.” 

She turned to load up her arms with two mincemeat pies and a bowl of softly whipped cream, then turned to leave, Gilbert following on her heels. 

The rest of the party was busy clearing room on the table, save for Ms. Stacy and Anne, who had moved to the sofa, heads close together, locked in quiet, rapt conversation. Marilla sliced pies while Gilbert took the table’s dessert orders, then he began delivering plates to those still grouped at the table. 

When he made his way into the sitting room with a plate of mincemeat pie for Ms. Stacy and rhubarb pie for Anne (“Extra cream, please,” she had dimpled as she smiled up at him, then dove headfirst back into her conversation with her old teacher), Gilbert’s first inclination was to take a seat across the room from them - the better to watch Anne’s enraptured face as she described the “thrill” that a Literature Theory seminar she had attended last week continued to give her. But then he remembered his audience, and a particularly scathing (in its truthfulness) comment Sebastian had made about his eyes “goggling out of his head” every time Anne walked past (and, yes, this remark came with an impression, to Gilbert’s everlasting mortification), and he quickly returned himself to the kitchen. 

He passed the grouping comfortably chatting at the table - Matthew asking Bash about his spring garden plans, Hazel quietly asking Elijah what on earth  _ mincemeat _ was, followed by Elijah’s jovial laughter, Delly sleeping in her basket nearby - and found Marilla beginning to fill the sink in the kitchen with hot water from the stove. 

“Ms. Cu-- uhm - Marilla? Dinner was incredible, and I am so grateful to you for hosting all of us this year. Might I… Why don’t you go enjoy some pie and let me wash these dishes?” Gilbert looked hopefully at her, and her refusal died on her lips as she looked over at him. 

“Well… alright, Gilbert. Thank you for the kind offer,” she smiled at him, and moved to get a dish towel from the shelf nearby. “I’ll help dry.” 

He nodded, rolling up his sleeves and diving into the substantial pile. This was the chore that he volunteered to do at the small boarding house where he stayed in Toronto, often finding that his mind was able to work through with ease problems that otherwise felt impossible as his hands worked at the routine task. 

Gilbert and Marilla worked in companionable silence for a while, and then Marilla quietly said, “Your father... “ Gilbert glanced up, unsure if he had really heard her speak. He watched as she seemed to swallow around a lump in her throat, then continued, “Your father would be so, so proud of you, Gilbert. We all are.” 

He felt that same warmth rise up in him again, and this time it concentrated at a point over his heart, burning brightly inside of his chest. He didn’t trust his voice, so he looked up into her eyes, the corners of his lips turning up, and nodded, his eyes shining. 

Another companionable silence came over them for a time, and then Gilbert forced his mouth open, wanting to tell Marilla how grateful he was for her and Matthew’s support and generosity, how happy he was to spend Christmas together with them again. He wanted to try to explain to them that he had grown to see them as a part of his family, of his intentions to make it official if Anne would have him -- but as he started to speak, a peal of laughter rang through the house from the sitting room, and his head turned reflexively in the direction of the sound. 

_ Anne.  _ The warmth in his chest turned molten and trickled down into his stomach. 

After a frozen moment, he turned back to the sink to find Marilla smiling fondly at him once more, and he closed his mouth, swallowing. He tried to recover his train of thought and thank Marilla for her kindness and hospitality, but what came out when he opened his mouth once more was, “I love her.” 

His body reacted before his brain did as he felt his cheeks heat, then replayed his words and suddenly wished the floor would open and swallow him whole. 

Marilla froze briefly, then her gaze softened and she tilted her head to the side. After a moment, she nodded at him, her eyes shining in the firelight. He read in her look an acknowledgement of two _ kindred spirits _ \- as Anne would have put it - a signal that she understood the feeling; that she loved her, too. 

Gilbert smiled warmly at Marilla as she blinked back the tears in her eyes. Then they turned back to the task at hand and worked in a comfortable silence until the dishes had all been replaced in their cupboards and the sink was empty once more. 

_____

Another hour had passed, and no one seemed particularly interested in moving from their current positions: Elijah, Matthew, and Anne on the couch, Hazel in one armchair, Marilla in the other, Muriel and Bash seated near one another on kitchen chairs they had dragged into the sitting room, and Gilbert on the floor, his back resting against the couch, his shoulder flush against Anne’s leg. They all felt the comfortable weight of an excellent meal in their bellies combine with the warmth of the fire radiating over them, the Christmas tree shining softly from the corner of the room, and each dreaded the moment when they would have to trade their current, cozy state and say goodnight. 

Anne reached her hand down slowly to brush her fingertips over Gilbert’s curls. She had wanted more - so much more - as she had sat across him at the table that night. She had reached out her slippered feet more than once to brush them against his sock feet, catching his eye quickly each time then looking away. She had wanted to pull him down right next to her on the couch when he had delivered her dessert (with an absolute mountain of whipped cream and what had to be the largest slice of pie, bless him). And for the last half hour, as the group played a few rounds of  _ Kitchen Sounds _ , and then a lively game of  _ Dogs and Cats _ that Anne had prepared before the guest’s arrival, Anne had wanted to run her finger through Gilbert’s soft, loose curls; she had wanted to press him into the pantry and kiss his neck where his collar lay pressed against his skin; had longed to bite the soft curve of his earlobe just once. 

The strange thoughts and desires that had come over her like a fever time and again both unnerved and excited her. What was it about this comfortable gathering of family that made Anne almost crazy with wanting to share private affection with him? Perhaps she was coming down with something.

The crackling of the fire, combined with Anne’s quiet introspection and the feeling of Gilbert leaning into her touch, laying his head against her knee, had lulled Anne into an almost-comatose level of contentment. She felt like never moving or speaking again, except to elicit a promise from everyone in the room that no one else would move or speak ever again. 

Which is probably why she jumped out of her skin when a loud knock sounded at the door. 

Matthew had been the first to recover himself, rising quickly and shuffling toward the door, Gilbert and Marilla on his heels. It was dark and cold outside, and Matthew didn’t recognize the shadowy face in the window as he approached. He didn’t fully open the door, but stood behind it and moved his head around the frame. 

“Good evening, sir. I am looking for one Anne Shirley-Cuthbert - is this Green Gables?” 

Anne heard the smiling, confident voice from her perch on the couch, and she froze in confusion. 

“Uhh -- yes, this is -- uhh -- Green Gables. I-- erm-- Anne?” Matthew called over unnecessarily over his shoulder, as she was already approaching the doorway. 

“Anne!” The man in the doorway moved to pass Matthew, reaching out for the small redhead and pulling her into an enthusiastic embrace, lifting her briefly off of her feet, while she stood rigidly, her limbs remaining frozen at her sides and eyes wide in bewilderment. 

“I…  _ Roy?! _ Why-- What are you doing here?!” Anne’s voice squeaked an octave higher than usual. 

_____

Five minutes later and the party found itself considerably less comfortable. Roy Gardner had squeezed himself onto the couch next to Anne, bunching Matthew and Elijah awkwardly, as he began to explain in a loud, dramatic voice. 

“ _ Well _ , I got snowed-in a couple of days ago, and then the ferries stopped running because of  _ ice _ in the  _ channel _ apparently? But I just kept thinking to myself, ‘Certainly the ferry to Nova Scotia will be up and running again in  _ no time _ !’ But this morning the ferry company announced that there would be no trips until  _ after  _ Christmas! So I twiddled my lonely little thumbs all morning, feeling  _ just _ like Whitman must have as he wrote that one poem - you know, about the frost and the sounds in the woods? And then this afternoon I finally remembered all of the  _ lovely _ things you had told me about Avonlea and Green Gables, so I hopped the last train from Charlottetown and here I am!”

By the end of this speech, the uncomfortable grouping on the couch had been broken up as baby Delphine was awoken -  _ unsurprising since no one on Earth could ever sleep through this idiot’s exclamations _ , Gilbert thought bitterly, his eyes roving over the creased slacks, fine woolen coat, and shining dress boots of the interloper with gritted teeth.  _ And does he have to sit  _ quite  _ that close to Anne? _ \- and Elijah got up to tend to her. 

Royal Gardner had been briefly introduced to everyone in the room upon his arrival, and he greeted them all with a wide smile of straight, white teeth, seeming to look  _ through  _ rather than  _ at  _ them; quickly turning his undivided, enthusiastic attention back to Anne. His blonde hair was pushed up and back in a carefully styled manner which made Gilbert’s eye twitch as he had doffed his hat on the way in, handing it to Gilbert as he passed him like he was a butler. Or a coat rack. 

Roy had instantly made himself at home, assumptively asking whether he could stay with the Cuthberts for Christmas in front of the entire group as he settled onto the couch and pulled Anne next to him - a movement which made Gilbert’s fingers clench briefly into a fist. 

Thirty more seconds of loud, uninterrupted speech from the newcomer (“Anne, you were  _ right _ ! This town really is  _ darling _ ! I think I’m more excited to be  _ here _ than I was to go  _ home! _ ”) and the party began breaking up in earnest as coats, hats, gloves, scarves and shoes were all donned, thanks were given, and wishes of Merry Christmas were called. 

Gilbert moved slowly, lagging behind the rest of his family as they said their goodbyes. Sebastian waited behind for Gilbert a quick look between them communicated that Gilbert would catch up with him at home. 

“Anne, were those your  _ friends _ ?! They were just so  _ exotic _ ! Where  _ ever  _ did you find them?!” 

Gilbert gripped his hat tightly in his hands, hot anger pulsing through him. He moved back into the sitting room and stood towering over the still seated couple on the couch, then swallowed loudly. He forced his gaze up from his hands to Anne’s eyes. He couldn’t read the expression there, but knew he wouldn’t sleep a wink tonight if he didn’t get the chance to speak with her before going home. 

“Anne,” he began quietly, “I--” 

“Oh, Robert! You’re still here! Wonderful. I have heard so much about you! Come, sit and tell me all about yourself. Anne says you’re in school, too? Dentistry, was it?” Royal Gardner smiled blandly up at Gilbert, gesturing to a vacant seat across the room from he and Anne. 

“Anne, I… I wanted to--” Gilbert ignored Roy’s insipid stare and speech, as well as the feeling bubbling up in him that felt a lot like a desire for violence at the moment. “I was hoping you’d take a walk with me?” 

Anne popped onto her feet, and Gilbert hoped that it was gratitude at being able to get away with him that colored her cheeks, and not her wish to interrupt his rudeness to her obnoxious  _ friend _ . “I-- Of course! I would love to walk with you. I’ll just get my things, and--” 

She broke off as she looked to Marilla, finding her mother-figure’s eyes wide with urgent meaning. 

Anne turned instantly back toward the couch on the balls of her feet, saying brightly, too loudly, “Actually, before I go why don’t I take you upstairs and show you the guest room, Royal?” She gave her friend a tight-lipped smile that didn’t touch her wide eyes. 

Gilbert reached out to lightly touch Anne’s elbow as Roy stood, his dark eyes boring into Gilbert’s for the briefest second, leaving the impression that there was more to him than his insipid commentary suggested. The moment was over before Gilbert was really sure it had happened at all. And in an instant Royal had thrown a carefree arm around Anne’s shoulders, enthusing, “ _ Oh!  _ That would be  _ great.  _ I am  _ exhausted! _ ” Anne stepped away from him, still smiling, and Roy reached down to grab his shiny suitcase, then he trailed Anne up the stairs, chatting incessantly. 

Gilbert’s hand clenched tight once more as he remembered the only time he had been upstairs at Green Gables. He thought of the spare bedroom, so close to Anne’s - just down the hall… He felt a tremor run down his arms as he remembered Anne’s bedroom - the soft, white blanket and flowing curtains, the dried flower garlands, the tokens of her many passions; tokens of her childhood. He thought of Royal Gardner walking into that room, and he took an involuntary step toward the stairs. 

“Well… he is… that was… unexpected.” Marilla looked uncomfortable as she tried to salvage the palpable gloom that had stolen into the room like a thick, poisonous fog. 

Gilbert couldn’t bring himself to speak, but he half grunted, half huffed a response, his shoulders shrugging. His eyes were glued to the staircase, and he stayed frozen to the spot until he heard footsteps there, when he seemed to finally exhale the breath he didn’t know he had been holding. 

He hated the way he felt - hated that his perfect Family Christmas Dinner had been ruined by the appearance of some obnoxious stranger; hated that a handsome, handsy young man would be sleeping next door to the woman he loved; hated the hot, bubbling pit of jealousy that was sickening his stomach. He tried to console himself with knowing that he would get to see Anne alone - talk with her and kiss her --

Kiss her at long, long last. This night had been interminably long. Every time he happened to glance down at her full lips he thought he would go crazy with wanting to kiss her. Now that he knew - and knew well - how it felt to kiss Anne Shirley Cuthbert, he felt he would be half-crazy with wanting to kiss her anytime he wasn’t actively doing so for the rest of his life -- 

and hold her and make this horrible feeling in his stomach go away. 

He didn’t say anything as Anne re-entered the room, moving past him to put on her coat, hat and boots. She seemed to Gilbert unwilling to address the tension in the room, or perhaps even oblivious of it?  _ Her  _ friend _ is here - she could be feeling deliriously happy right now. Maybe he has nice qualities. Maybe. Breathe, Blythe.  _

Gilbert mentally shook himself, trying to loosen the gloom that had settled over him. Trying not to ruin Anne’s night with the pall that had come over him. He bade Matthew and Marilla goodnight, then walked past Anne through the open doorway, shoving his hands deep into his pockets as they walked into the cold, dark night. 

_____

Anne’s heart was beating too-quickly, and she felt a little frantic. She gripped the small, wrapped package in her coat pocket reflexively as she walked next to Gilbert - their arms brushing in the darkness. She didn’t know where he was leading her until they wound up on the beach of Barry’s Pond - the frozen surface of the water white and wintry as the surrounding snowfields. 

Her mind was jumping through thoughts as erratic as her heartbeats -  _ Royal is here. He was… He is acting so strangely - being so obnoxious. Is he always that way, and I just hadn’t noticed before? I have never seen him in such high spirits, but he seemed intent on ruining our perfect evening somehow! ...Oh, don’t be ungenerous, Anne. He was probably just tired. But, oh, I was having such a nice time. And now… If only he had gone to  _ Diana’s _ house! And… and Gilbert has been  _ so  _ quiet… _

“It’s so beautiful tonight. Isn’t a full moon on a snowy night the most beautiful kind of night? And, oh, I’m so sorry about Bash - he was so  _ hard  _ on you, but it was all so very funny and your face turned so pink. I tried to intervene but,  _ Gil _ , you never  _ did  _ tell me that story. You really delivered a  _ baby _ ?! And to think only a few months ago the girls made me ask you about whether being emotional affects  _ fertility _ ! Absolutely shameful, the lack of education on such matters that young girls receive. And,  _ oh _ , how it warmed my heart to watch as--” 

“Anne.” Gilbert’s voice was quiet, anxious. She turned toward him, her eyes bright. She wanted to give him the gift that was in her pocket- wanted to watch him open it; keep talking; walk with him all night -- do anything to smooth out the pinched look between his eyebrows. She was about to pull his gift out of her pocket, when he spoke again. 

“Anne, I… I don’t want that… your  _ friend _ … he doesn’t seem very…” Gilbert huffed out a sigh once more. He took a deep breath in, closing his eyes tight. “I’m feeling jealous again, Anne. It’s not attractive in letters, but I can assure you the feeling is one hundred percent worse in person, and I just have to ask you about… about your…  _ relationship _ … with that… with Roy.” 

His words hung there on the air. Gilbert didn’t open his eyes - feeling shame and humiliation and fear course through him. He couldn’t bring himself to watch Anne’s reaction to his humiliating confession. He wouldn’t blame her for laughing at him. Or even being annoyed with him - he was being childish and he knew it, but he just --

Gilbert’s eyes flew open as he felt himself being tackled into the snow. He couldn’t make out much - just a blur of red and white as Anne pushed him backward, carrying her weight forward with him and she landed on top of him, her knees on either side of his hips. She brought her face close to his, her long, red hair curtaining their faces together. 

“Gilbert Blythe. You are THE most adorable thing.” She kissed him between each clipped, breathless word - on each cheek, his forehead, his eyebrows, his nose, his chin. Then she lowered his face and began to nibble on the bottom of his left earlobe, talking through her teeth in his ear. “No one has ever been jealous over me before. I’ve told you everything there is to tell you about Roy - he is just a chum. And, just...  _ how _ are you so very sweet and adorable? I have wanted to bite this part of you…” she moved swiftly to his other earlobe “...so much tonight that I thought I might perish for wanting it.” 

Gilbert was laughing now, albeit breathlessly. She worried quickly whether she had knocked the wind out of him, but couldn’t stop herself from grinning down at him as she sat back onto his legs. 

_____

A part of him still wanted to ask her - whether Royal had ever made advances toward her; whether he could be trusted; whether she was certain, really and truly, that she liked him, Gilbert, best. 

But when the reflection of the moonlight on the snow hit her eyes as she beamed down at him, his breath caught in his throat, and all he could think was  _ mine _ . 

He hadn’t brought the ring tonight - had packed it away in the bottom of his suitcase, actually - but he wanted to put it on her finger right now. It was the best kind of pleasure and worst kind of pain - this wanting their life together to start and knowing that he couldn’t make it happen. Not yet. Gilbert knew that he had felt the need to grow up too quickly ever since his father’s death, but as he looked into Anne’s smiling eyes, the full moon creating a halo around her head, he felt a new conviction to do everything he could - everything within his power - so that when she was ready, he would be ready. 

Anne reached into her pocket, still perched on top of his legs, still smiling, and pulled out a small, rectangular package wrapped in brown paper, tied with a string with a sprig of evergreen adorning the top. Along with the package was a sealed envelope with his name written across the front in her fluid, loopy script. 

“Don’t open it until tomorrow, okay.” It wasn’t a question, and she was no longer grinning, though her eyes still smiled down at him. 

“Okay,” he gazed softly at her, stunned by her beauty; by his love for her. His back was cold and his gloves were covered in snow and he never, never wanted to move. He wanted to pull her down on top of him and keep her there with him. But then he worried about the snow soaking through her dress, and he moved to sit up. Before he could stand them both back up, though, he leaned forward and kissed her softly once. 

He brushed snow from her legs, and her from his back, both of them grinning like idiots, and then he offered her his arm, and they walked back up the lane toward Green Gables once more. 

When they arrived at the gate, Gilbert turned to face her again.

“Anne, I know that we are both so young, and have so much left to do - so many dreams to chase - but I want to marry you.” He inhaled a deep, shaking breath, then continued.

“I’m not proposing - not asking you to marry me  _ yet  _ \- but... I just want to make my intentions perfectly clear.” He smiled at her then - at the way her mouth hung slightly open, her eyes wide and roaming over his face. His heart was pounding, but the buzzing feeling in his head and limbs had finally quieted. 

“Oh, and I left your gift beneath your tree. Don’t open it until tomorrow, okay?” Gilbert kissed her softly on the cheek, then turned to begin his walk home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE!!!!!!  
> I'm a jerk and inserted another jerk into our family's lovely Christmas Feast!   
> How DARE I, you ask?   
> Why is Anne even FRIENDS with this idiot, you ask?   
> Well, I gotta keep you on your toes somehow, and I can't just keep accomplishing that through steamy smooching scenes, right?!   
> I mean, I really, really could, though. Moira really FED us with these two in that last ep, and I...  
> Okay, I have distracted myself. What I meant to say is this: good things come to those who still love me even when I put an idiot into an otherwise lovely fic. Please?   
> Pretty please? 
> 
> Also, if you found yourself asking whoTF is Royal Gardner, see part one. 
> 
> I love you all so much!!!   
> xo  
> M


	10. The Fanfare of Midnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *****  
> Anne’s thoughts felt blocked, like a brook dammed over with detritus until the water can only trickle instead of flow. She tried picturing herself in a church, a white gown like Prissy’s, a bouquet of spring flowers, a veil… 
> 
> She closed her eyes and remembered wearing Marilla’s veil - now her veil, packed away in paper in her closet. She imagined the whole town there, staring at her, and Gilbert ahead in a dark suit. 
> 
> She liked the last part, at least.  
> *****

Gilbert found himself wide awake hours later - staring up at his ceiling and replaying the events from that night over again in his head. Home, family, love, laughter, comfort - these feelings, though found in abundance earlier that night, did not get their fair due from his circling thoughts. Jealousy, fear, adoration, and… and then he had just told her -- these were the thoughts that kept him from sleep. 

_ And then I just… told her. Surely she already knew? _

Gilbert wished he’d had the courage to stay, to talk and to listen, to hear Anne say  _ Yes _ and  _ Of course  _ and  _ That’s all I want, too.  _

But what if it wasn’t? 

  
Gilbert sat up abruptly, his warm feet hitting the cold floorboards without his noticing the difference, agitated as he felt at the moment. He opened his door quickly, and proceeded down the stairs. He needed a drink of water, or so he told himself when he was halfway down the staircase, wondering where and why his feet were carrying him away from his bed. 

Gilbert rounded the corner at the bottom of the stairs, and found himself marching not toward the kitchen, but toward the Christmas tree sitting in the corner of the sitting room. He would just hold the gift, surely, and remind himself that she loved him; that no one had a certain future; that he would be okay with waiting for Anne to be ready; that her not wanting to marry him didn’t mean that she didn’t love him in the same all-consuming, desperate way that he loved her…

He stopped in front of the tree and bent to pick up the gift she had given him earlier that night. He weighed it in his hands, told himself he was being ridiculous - that he needed sleep - but he didn’t put the gift back under the tree. He was about to, wanted to… 

And then he thought of having to open it tomorrow… in front of his family… 

He recalled in quick succession several moments from dinner when he wished that he could disappear, and the way that each time Bash had looked at him, he seemed to grow more excited by the prospect of Gilbert’s discomfort… 

Gilbert tore into the letter first, retreating to a chair nearby and bringing the candle he had brought down with him close to the page. 

_____

To my Handsome Penpal, 

Merry Christmas, my one love.

This pen was hewn from a branch of the red oak tree outside my window - the one you once claimed to be my dryadic home base. The one that I look at (and sometimes lie under) while I read (and read and reread) your letters. The one in whose shadow I first felt your lips on mine, and had to pinch myself to be sure I wasn’t dreaming. 

I’m not sure how we came to be this way, Gil. Sometimes I truly cannot recall the events that led us here, and then I awake in a cold sweat -  _ Was it all just a dream? Can it possibly be that Gilbert Blythe loves me, too? _

I don’t know how we got this way sometimes, and, at others, I cannot remember my life before this - before feeling so loved and known and wanted as I do when we are together. 

That night in Charlottetown - the one you spent in my bed - was the pinnacle of earthly bliss. I don’t know how I will go back to my life at Queens knowing that there is another way of living - knowing that you are so far away, just out of reach, wanting me the way I want you. 

I have dubbed this pen “The Pen of Promise”, and I hope that when you hold it in your hand, it reminds you that I am reaching out for you. When you are working on a difficult problem or passage and press it to your lips, as I pressed it to mine before packaging it for you, I pray it will give you strength and clarity and courage of the same intensity that your love has given me. 

When you hold this pen in your hand, it should feel like hope - the thing without feathers. It should feel like the feeling your first letter gave me; like home. 

When the ink flows from it as fast as your hand can keep up with your mind, I hope you will feel my love flowing to you, wherever we are; no matter the distance. Hold it, and hold me - we are the same - 

Yours, 

Anne

_____

Gilbert held the pen in both of his hands, his eyes smiling down at the engraved marks on the side of it - it was too dark to see them now, but he knew where they were, and he ran his thumb gently over the surface of the letters “G. B. & A. S. C”. 

He felt the smooth weight of the pen in his hands, and felt something in his chest unknot as he lay back in his bed. He lay back, closed his eyes and pressed his lips to the cool, smooth surface of the pen, his thoughts circling once more as he drifted off to sleep. 

_ Hope. Home. Anne. _

_____

Anne turned back over in her bed, expelling the air in her lungs with an audible  _ huff _ as she did so. 

It wasn’t that she never thought about marrying Gilbert. 

...okay, no. It was exactly that. She thought about him - loving him, wanting him - and she thought about the idea of  _ forever _ , but only in the way a sixteen-year-old girl can. Which is to say, she thought about a  _ happily ever after _ , but… 

_ Marriage. I’m not seventeen yet. Haven’t finished school. Haven’t done  _ anything _ , really. And… I… we…  _ Marriage. 

Anne’s thoughts felt blocked, like a brook dammed over with detritus until the water can only trickle instead of flow. She tried picturing herself in a church, a white gown like Prissy’s, a bouquet of spring flowers, a veil… 

She closed her eyes and remembered wearing Marilla’s veil - now  _ her _ veil, packed away in paper in her closet. She imagined the whole town there, staring at her, and Gilbert ahead in a dark suit. 

She liked the last part, at least. 

Her imagination was impressive in its scope, but, she was realizing now, not in its direction. She had never spent much time on dreaming up a future for herself. Perhaps it was a by-product of the fires that her creative mind were forged in -- always using it to escape her present, never daring to wield its mighty power for something that might give her hope for tomorrow, because hope, more than anything, had a crushing power within it. 

Blowing out another loud sigh, Anne sat up in bed, then stood, then she was hurrying downstairs. She tip-toed past the guest room and Marilla’s room, less worried about waking anyone than she was worried about having company when she could barely contend with her  _ own _ thoughts at the moment. 

She went swiftly down the stairs, careful to skip the third step down because it always creaked loudly, and found herself standing in front of the Christmas tree in the dark, with the light of the full moon shining in through the window. 

Her body was still, but her eyes roved under the tree until she spotted his tight, neat handwriting on a thin rectangular box. 

Not  _ ring-box sized or shaped _ , Anne noted to herself. Not  _ a ring.  _

Anne bent to retrieve the package with somewhat trembling fingers. She didn’t know why she should feel so anxious - he had told her that he would wait, that it wasn’t time yet, that they didn’t have to… not yet. But her heart persisted in ramming against her ribcage, and then she was tearing open the sealed envelope first, her fingers working on the twine wrapped around the package as she began to read.

_____

Darling Dryad,

The first Christmas gift I ever gave you was a book - you never asked, but I’d like to tell you the story of how I came by that gift.

Sebastian and I had made port on the tiny island of Montserrat. The island was so small that in the six hours we were stopped there, Bash and I walked across the entire thing and back - from coast to coast. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

Well, second-most beautiful. Though I’d have died before admitting that (to myself, let alone to Bash).

Someone there told us that it was nicknamed “The Emerald Coast of the Caribbean” because it closely resembles Ireland - a destination that I hope to someday see with my own eyes, if only to verify the veracity of this claim. 

While I was there, I couldn’t stop thinking of you. It’s little wonder, now I think of it — a place as green and other-worldly as that, with sand as white as your skin... a beach whose gentle waves tried but just failed to mimic the color of your eyes— would make me think of the dryad back home. The one whose eyes I almost got so lost in on a busy Charlottetown street that I very nearly never made it aboard the ship that had brought me half-a-world away from…

But, no. I was just homesick. Or tired. Or coming down with something. I shook my head and tried to see the incredible world around me without seeing you.

Just before Bash and I boarded the ship once more, I asked him to stop at the one small shop near the pier — I wanted a souvenir of the unforgettable day I had just spent on this beautiful island. Not  _ my _ island, but still.

The shop held a few paintings and postcards, a book or two about the Caribbean islands, some beautiful seashells and small jars of island sand... and this one, tiny dictionary.

Suddenly, you were there. It was as close as I ever hope to come to seeing a ghost, the way that little red book conjured my little redheaded classmate. You were there spelling words like “distracting” and “preoccupied” and “adulation”. Then you looked over at me and spelled one last word: “Future”.

When I had caught my breath, I bought the book and exited the shop. Bash told me I was pale - paler than usual. He said, “Looks as though you’ve seen a ghost, Blythe!”

I didn’t tell him that I had. Have never told anyone.

But, that night, I hatched a plan with Bash. A plan to return to Canada, to live together as brothers, to work my family’s land and begin schooling to become a doctor. To come home.

Home to my future.

I wrapped that gift the moment we got here, and had the nerve to write to you on the inside cover - to reference our rivalry, to hint at spelling competitions - when what I really wanted to say was, “I came home. To you. For you. From half a world away, you called, and I’m here. I will be waiting here forever for you, my girl. Only girl.”

Though I’d have died before admitting it (to myself, let alone to you).

This gift does not compare in meaning or weight to the one I gave you so long ago, expecting nothing, hoping for nothing in return. Now I have no expectations, but much more hope than I did then.

Hope for a future at your side.

Hope for a life of love and laughter and partnership and passions and making your every dream come true.

Hope that you won’t forget me (hence the photograph - if you ever doubted my insecurity, now you have incontrovertible proof that I worry you’ll forget your forgettable country doctor without this reminder on your desk. Though I’m not sure it quite captures the _splendid_ quality of my chin well enough, don’t you think? I hope you’ll be able to look at it and feel me loving you all the way from Toronto. I hope you’ll see it when you read my longing, depraved letters, and feel me wanting to be there with you).

Hope that you will never doubt my feelings for you (hence the - ahem - anatomy refresher. I couldn’t think of a better way to remind you that I’m always, always thinking of you - and far too often in ways that would make both of us blush).

Here’s to you, my darling, and to the hope for the future that brought me home, that keeps me going, that quickens my pulse with longing whenever I think of your ocean-blue eyes. 

Merry Christmas, my Anne. 

Your own lecherous love,

Gilbert

_____

Anne’s fingers were steady now as she unwrapped the parcel in her lap. There she found a small, framed photograph. She wondered at it - the perfect likeness of the boy with kind, smiling eyes, an unruly mop of curls, and that perfect, splendid chin of his. She smiled widely as she traced her fingers over it, then brought him to her lips and kissed his adorable face. 

After a moment, she unfurled a small, glossy paper that was rolled and placed inside the box. She found on it a detailed replica of a human skeleton, and broke into a fit of giggles. He must have found it at the university store or some shop near the hospital. Realizing this warmed her heart and pinked her cheeks - he must have seen it and thought of her. 

He loved her. He wanted her. He had told her, shown her, over and over again, but she hadn’t believed him enough to follow these thoughts through - to imagine herself dressed in white, him in a dark suit…

She closed her eyes and laid back on the couch, holding her gifts to her chest, and let her imagination go. Images filled her mind quickly, and she wondered at the electric feeling of wanting it all so much, so suddenly. 

She saw him smiling at her while he quietly made vows to her, his eyes never leaving hers. She saw the two of them boarding an ocean liner, waving to loved ones and setting sail for lands she had always dreamed of seeing, and places she had yet to imagine. She imagined for them a small house near the ocean with a beautiful garden, ivy running over every wall and gate. She pictured meeting Gilbert at home after a long day of teaching - could imagine him rubbing her back as they reclined together in front of a hearthfire, sharing stories and laughter. She glimpsed an argument, even, with her pointed finger and his arms crossed tight against his chest, and it melted into a new image: His arms still crossed tightly, wrapped securely around her in a large, soft bed, his breath tickling her ear as he whispered something she couldn’t yet hear. 

The book of revelation she had been reading from was closed suddenly to her mind, but the feeling and flavor of the visions remained behind. She sat upright with a word on her tongue, and it tasted light and sweet there.  _ Future.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops! I posted two chapters in less than twenty-four hours! Is that even legal?!
> 
> I'm sorry I haven't responded to comments in a few days, but please know that I see them and they absolutely delight me and I have every intention to go through them and write to you all when I have a spare moment. This story has possessed a lil bit the past few days, and I hope that you're okay with that! 
> 
> This chapter was originally going to be just their letters to one another, but then... sorry not sorry, I guess? lol
> 
> Anyway, I do this for you and your kind, wonderful, hysterical comments and how sweet and supportive and fun you all are. I love you to pieces - let there be no doubts on this matter. And so it is written, etc. and so on. 
> 
> xo  
> M
> 
> PS I wonder what ol' Roy got Anne for Christmas? ;p


	11. Of Cabbages and Kings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *****  
> “By the way,” Anne closed her eyes and took a slow breath, then quickly exhaled the words “Gilbert told me that he intends to marry me yesterday.”  
> *****

“Diana, please. I’m begging you. Please invite Roy to attend the Christmas Panto with your family tonight. Please?” 

Anne lay sprawled out on Diana’s bedspread once more, her hair hanging loose down one side of the mattress, legs bent and kicking at the other. Diana sat primly against the headboard, her feet propped up on top of Anne’s knees, ankles crossed and hands folded neatly in her lap. Anne had run straight to the comfort of Diana’s bedroom just after breakfast, excusing herself for a quick visit to deliver Diana’s Christmas gift. In reality, the girls had exchanged gifts weeks ago in Charlottetown, neither of them able to keep secret the small items they had thoughtfully chosen for one another. 

Diana tilted her head to one side, eyebrows drawing slightly together. “Yes, of course I will, Anne. But… you still haven’t told me what Roy is doing here.”

Anne made a noise in the back of her throat that Diana’s mother would have clutched her pearls at, then groaned.

“I have _no idea_ what he's doing here, but so far he has managed to ruin any fun that is going on wherever he goes. First last night, then this morning. Did I tell you that he gave me a Christmas gift?! The boy had _no idea_ he would be spending his Christmas at Green Gables, but he had the presence of mind to bring me a _gold bracelet_. He insisted upon putting it on me when I had opened it, then _he kissed my hand_! I mean, Roy knows all about the bracelet that Matthew gave me, and Gilbert’s key charm - I showed them both to him at the Winter Ball last week! So what kind of present is that from one _chum_ to another, I ask you?”

Diana thought privately that it was  _ no _ kind of present for a so-called “chum”, and perhaps that was the point. But aloud she merely said, “Has he met Gilbert yet?” 

“Yep, last night. And it was  _ awful _ and  _ uncomfortable _ \-  _ everything  _ with Roy has been so far. But… oh, Gilbert was just so  _ adorable  _ about it all, Diana!” Anne sat up suddenly, light blazing in her eyes. “We went for a walk last night, and he told me that he was actually  _ jealous _ of  _ Roy _ ! Isn’t that the  _ cutest  _ thing you have ever heard?!” 

Diana knew that once Anne had slipped into using so many emphasized words per sentence, her emotions had fully taken over. She tried to think through the story Anne was crafting so she could make sense of the deluge of news. Diana lifted her ankles and placed them to the side of the bed, sitting up straighter as she crafted her careful response. “Really? What did you tell him?” 

“Why, that he was the  _ most adorable _ thing  _ ever _ , of course. ...and then I pushed him down and kissed some sense into him. He really is the  _ best _ kisser, Diana.” Anne grinned unabashedly. 

A wrinkle appeared between Diana’s eyebrows. “Anne, maybe you need to have a talk with Roy. About your feelings.” 

Anne froze for a moment, the picture of bewilderment. Then she laughed loudly, laying back across the bed once more. “ _ What _ feelings, Diana?! Roy just needed a family to spend the holiday with. He knows how things are -- about me and Gilbert…

“By the way,” Anne closed her eyes and took a slow breath, then quickly exhaled the words “Gilbert told me that he intends to marry me yesterday.” 

Diana was the one to freeze this time, her eyes locking on Anne’s face, which had suddenly turned quite pink, no longer able to meet Diana’s stare. 

“Oh, Diana. It was  _ awful _ . Just the night before I had told Gil that I thought marrying young was the  _ most reprehensible _ thing two people could do - I went on and on about ‘playing house’ and ‘giving up on dreams’. He was so quiet, but you know how I get when I fly into a passion. I hardly noticed him! But then… well, last night we went on that walk, and as he dropped me off he just said it. He wants to marry me.”

Diana tried to swallow the smile that had begun sneaking across her lips, but without success. When, after a long moment of silence, Anne finally looked at her friend, she found her grinning down at her, eyes dancing. “Promise you’ll name your first baby after me, Anne. It’s only fair.” 

Anne sat up quickly, gripping Diana’s arms, fighting the smile on her face as well. “Oh, don’t tease me, Diana! What am I to do or say to such a declaration?! I am  _ sixteen _ for goodness sake!” 

Forcing her features into seriousness, Diana took a deep breath, then grasped Anne’s hands and somberly said, “I’m sorry, Anne. You’re right. But… you  _ will _ let me choose the color for my Maid of Honor dress, won’t you?” 

Anne removed her hands from Diana’s, crossing her arms across her chest. Deciding that going on the offensive was the best defense in this case, she swallowed down the lump in her throat and gave her friend a sly smile. “Are you sure it won’t be a  _ Matron _ of Honor gown, darling Diana? After all, you and Jerry looked quite cozy yesterday…”

A delicate pink spread across Diana’s cheeks, and she looked down at her lap. “He… we…” she looked back into the clear blue eyes across from her, pushing her chin up and her shoulders back slightly. “We are just friends. I wanted… I thought that maybe… but for right now, Jerry is only interested in me as a good chum. Which-- its wonderful, Anne. He has forgiven me and we are… friends.” 

Diana knew that she had talked herself in a circle, but tried not to show weakness in her posture as her lips forced themselves into a smile.

Anne wasn’t fooled for a moment. 

“Dearest Diana,” Anne reached out for her friend with both hands, pulling her head onto her shoulder and smoothing back her silken hair. “This is wonderful progress! Just last month he could barely look you in the eye, and now… listen to me.” Anne’s tone had grown firm, and she pulled back to look into Diana’s eyes once more. 

“I saw you yesterday. Saw  _ both _ of you. Just give him time, Diana. He is too afraid of having his heart broken again to admit that he has already lost it to you. In fact, I would wager that it has remained in your keeping lo, these many months.” Anne’s eyes crinkled with the encouraging smile she gave as she watched two tears fall from Diana’s dark eyes. 

Anne pulled her back against her shoulder and held her for a long while - until Diana’s shaking breaths smoothed out and her eyes had dried. When she was ready, Diana sat upright and tenderly kissed Anne on her pale, freckled cheek. 

“May I give you some advice, too, Anne?” Their eyes locked together as Anne nodded mutely. 

“I don’t think Roy wants you for a chum.” 

“That…” Anne cleared her throat as her eyes clouded. “That’s not advice,” she finished lamely. 

“Oh. You’re right. Well,  _ here  _ is my advice.” Diana brought her hands up to Anne’s shoulders and squeezed. “Don’t let fear or miscommunication ruin relationships that are important to you. You need to talk to Roy about how you feel.” 

Anne opened her mouth to protest, but Diana made a noise to preempt her. “ _ And _ I think you may be underestimating Gilbert’s feelings - the jealousy  _ and _ those having to do with his… intentions.” 

Anne’s eyes grew wide, but before her lips could even twitch Diana reached up to press her fingers against them. 

“Okay, no. That wasn’t advice, either. But this is: Anne, Gilbert Blythe has loved you since the moment he laid eyes on you, and he has been trying to start his adult life since he became an orphan. Maybe he doesn’t see Moody and Ruby’s engagement as their giving anything up, being ready to get married so young. Maybe… maybe he knows the feeling of wanting to start something bigger than the two of them. That doesn’t have to be a bad thing, does it? Not if they are happy…” Diana reached back down to take Anne’s hands in hers. 

“Gilbert loves you, and you love him. But if you aren’t ready to even  _ consider  _ a world in which you could be engaged to him… or  _ married _ to him...” Anne’s eyes dropped to the bed, but Diana paused until Anne looked at her once more. “Then he deserves to know.” 

_____

“Blythe! Slow down before you bury that ax in your leg instead of that log!” Sebastian had been observing the frenetic pace of Gilbert’s wood-chopping for a few minutes. At first he had smiled to himself, happy that his friend was home (and, truth be told, that there was another set of hands to help with chores). 

But a few moments later his mirth had soured into worry as Gilbert didn’t slow down. As sweat rolled off of his face, the pile of chopped wood next to him began to exceed what was strictly necessary… possibly for the rest of the entire winter. 

Gilbert paused at Bash’s warning, but only for a moment. Their eyes met, and then Gilbert was off again.  _ Lift. Place. Aim. Swing. _

“What’s gotten into you this morning, anyway, Blythe?” Sebastian moved closer, his voice sounding easier while his anxiety increased. He knew Gilbert had stayed behind last night to speak with Anne, and he had noticed that Gilbert didn’t seem to unwrap anything from the girl in the course of their Christmas morning, but he hadn’t thought to worry about the reasons for either of those things until now. 

Gilbert remained with his back turned to him, however, so Sebastian planted his feet, crossed his arms over his chest, and determined to wait him out.  _ Lift. Place. Aim. Swing. Lift. Place. Aim. Swing. Lift. Place. Aim. Swing.  _

Sebastian thought about that arrogant ninny who sauntered into the Cuthbert home last night like he owned the place and ruined their lovely evening. He had known many rich, entitled young men in his lifetime, and two minutes in that boy’s company had been enough for Sebastian to know  _ exactly  _ what kind of person he was. He didn’t know what Anne was doing with a friend like that, but he knew it bothered him quite a bit. 

And if Bash was bothered, he could only imagine how Gilbert must be feeling about it all. 

_ Lift. Place. Aim. Swing. Lift. Place. Aim. Swing. _

“Blythe. Enough. I’m worried about you. You been out here for an hour, and now I’m goin’ to have to figure out where to store three year’s worth of firewood! Please. Talk to me.” 

Gilbert took one last ferocious swing of the ax - imbedding the blade into the old stump beneath the log he had just split. Freed from their burden, his hands flew up into his hair, pushing it back from his damp forehead as he panted out a few breaths. He paced back and forth for a minute, trying to slow his breathing. 

When he finally spoke his voice was quiet, and his words took Sebastian completely by surprise. 

“I told Anne that I wanted to marry her last night.” 

Gilbert looked up at his best friend in the world just in time to see him wrestle against the broad grin that was spreading across his face. 

“Don’t. Bash, I...  _ don’t _ . No victory dances or ‘I told you so’s.’ She… she doesn’t want to marry me.” 

Bash was still smiling when he looked up, but you could no longer call his expression a grin. It was more like a disbelieving smirk. 

“Blythe, you  _ proposed _ last night?!” Sebastian looked like you could knock him over with a feather. 

Gilbert jumped a little at his question, and after a moment he responded quietly, “Well, no. Not exactly, but I--” 

Bash barked a laugh. “So then how did she say - and I mean  _ really  _ say --  _ out loud  _ and everythin’ - that she don’t want to marry you?” 

Gilbert turned a doleful expression on him, but Bash just laughed again. “I’m sorry, Blythe, but I know enough about the both of you by now to know that communicating is  _ not _ exactly your strong suit.” 

Gilbert huffed out a blast of air, fogging the space between the two of them with a white cloud of exhaled exasperation and misery. 

“She told me that she thinks getting married at our age is… that she can’t imagine why  _ anyone _ would want to… she said the words  _ not ready _ and  _ playing house _ and… And I told myself that we could take it slow and go at her speed if she isn’t ready to… to think about… but then last night I said… and that… that  _ Royal Gardner _ showed up… and I couldn’t help but wonder if maybe she isn’t ready because she isn’t sure… about me. About us.” 

Gilbert’s ranting monologue hung in the air along with the white clouds from his breath for a long moment before he felt Bash’s arm slung around his shoulders as he led them both to a seat on the nearby logs. 

Gilbert wound his gloved fingers together, staring at them like he was trying to memorize each worn thread. Sebastian lifted his arm to pound him lovingly on the back, and Gilbert heard him chuckle to himself. 

“Blythe, you know I love you...” Gilbert was certainly expecting to be both laughed-at and talked-down, but he hadn’t been expecting his friend to start out so gently. He steeled himself against the harshness of what was sure to come next by taking a deep breath. 

“...but you have  _ got _ to stop tryin’ to play God.” If Gilbert had been surprised by the beginning of this sentence, then he was absolutely baffled by its conclusion. His head snapped up, his eyes searching Sebastian’s, hoping to find the meaning to this cryptic message somewhere in them. 

“When has it ever worked out for anyone to try to plan out every little moment of their future? You’re tryin’ to grow up and be a man so much that you have forgotten what a  _ gift  _ each day is. Gilbert, you’re eighteen. Anne is, what? Sixteen? And you both  _ just _ started school.  _ A thousand miles away from one another! _ ” 

Bash bent over to pick up a handful of snow and tossed it at Gilbert’s thoughtful expression as he spoke his last words, which softened the sharp edge of his words. Gilbert smiled ruefully and wiped at the snow before it could melt into the collar of his shirt, then shook his head and stared pensively down into the frozen mud at his feet. 

“Look, I’m not sayin’ that you shouldn’t ask Anne to marry you if that’s how you’re feelin’. But… Gilbert, I don’t want today to pass you by because you’re so wrapped up in plannin’ your every move for tomorrow. That’s not the way to a happy life.” Bash clapped his hand onto Gilbert’s shoulder, looking into his eyes with all of the love and concern he felt for his friend - his brother. 

Gilbert felt the impact of Bash’s message hit him like a slate to the head, and he nodded slowly; dazedly. He went back to staring at the snow by his feet without seeing anything. 

Gilbert knew that he had a tendency to get ahead of himself; to try to plan for his future so well that there would be no room for disappointment or heartbreak - he felt he had experienced enough of that for a lifetime already. But Bash’s words rang more true each moment that Gilbert examined the things that had brought him heartache and suffering in the recent past: his immature attempt at romance with Winnifred, his struggles with his calling as a doctor, his near-miss with Anne… All were caused, at least in part, by Gilbert’s desire to place a stranglehold on his future - to manage his life in a way that would ensure the best outcomes in all areas while minimizing his chances of getting hurt or hurting others. 

_ After all _ , Gilbert reasoned to himself,  _ isn’t it a good thing - to not want to hurt anyone? To protect myself from pain?  _

But then Gilbert thought of all of the truly great things in his life right now: his found family in the LaCroix/Hanfords; his current path, researching preventative treatments for a disease that had run rampant over humanity for a century; and Anne… All of these came about because he was willing to take a chance, to risk it all and pursue something great, consequences be damned. 

_ Don’t let today pass you by… _ Sebastian’s words sounded in his head like a warning.  _ That _ was the consequence of trying to manage his future. Gilbert didn’t want to pressure Anne - he wanted things between them to continue to grow and progress. Every moment he spent with her was more beautiful than the last -  _ Why am I so eager to skip ahead when where I am  _ right now  _ is so incredible?  _

Gilbert thought about Mary, and the days after her passing where Bash got up and dressed and walked and talked, but he was so far gone from who he had been - happy and at peace and in love - that Gilbert wondered if his friend could ever be happy again. He thought about how far Bash had come - how much he was making of his life, even if it wasn’t what he wanted; isn’t what he had planned on. 

Gilbert stood to go inside after a particularly punishing gust of wind brought him out of his deep reverie, the sweat he had worked up turned bitingly cold against his back. Bash was no longer beside him - Gilbert wasn’t sure when he had gone back inside, but he wanted to be sure to find him and thank him. 

_ Every day is a gift _ , Gilbert said the words over and over in his head like a prayer as he shook off his boots and hat and made his way inside the warm house. With the snow, he imagined himself shaking off his gloom of earlier - his need for certainty. 

He  _ would  _ marry Anne when they both were ready. But today it was more than enough just to be near her, and to love her with all that was in him. Suddenly he was desperate to go and see her - to thank her for her letter and the gift that he had run his hands and lips over more that morning than he would ever care to admit to anyone. To run his lips and hands over her, and thank God for the gifts in his life.

He was about to turn around for his hat once more when Hazel called out to him. “Gilbert! Come and have some lunch before it gets cold! We will all be gettin’ ready to go out to the big town Christmas whatever-it’s-called and you’ll need ya strength! ‘Specially if that  _ boy _ from last night with the big mouth and yellow hair will be joinin’ your Anne!” 

Gilbert felt the gloom try to settle back over him as Hazel brought up Anne’s visitor, but realized he couldn’t quite muster anything but a small  _ hmph.  _ Perhaps a little harmless jealousy wasn’t so bad, especially now that the feeling would forever be linked in his mind to the moment Anne had pushed him into the snow - had sat on top of him and kissed him all over with the sheer delight of being loved to distraction by him. Maybe another evening in Royal Gardner’s company wouldn’t turn out too bad, after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MY DARLINGS!!  
> I HAVE MISSED YOU!!  
> It has been six days since I posted a chapter, and I literally feel like a LOUSE! I'm so sorry - it was a crazy (not in a great way) week!!
> 
> BUT I hope you felt all of the good vibes I sent you all on Valentine's Day. AND I hope you will forgive me for this chapter, which, for the second time in a row, DOESN'T HAVE A SINGLE TONGUE -KISS IN IT! NOT ONE! :D
> 
> I love you all - please send me good vibes if you have any to spare, and I'll send you a chapter with MULTIPLE tongue-kisses in return.  
> xo  
> M


	12. The Remover to Remove

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *****  
> “May I escort you downstairs? Marilla just informed me that she and Matthew were going ahead to help the infamous Mrs. Lynde with something or another, so it looks like it will just be the two of us.” He offered his arm, his smile growing warmer. 
> 
> “Oh. Oh! No. No, Diana and her family are coming to get you. Us! They will bring their carriage to pick us up soon, I believe.” Anne swallowed thickly, then bent to lift the hem of her skirt and said, “I want to make sure this doesn’t… that I don’t trip on the stairs. After you.” She forced another toothless smile while her eyes roved the hallway, her pulse galloping.  
> *****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my loves!  
> Just a quick content warning -  
> I have added an additional tag to this story (Sexual harassment).  
> I'm worried that this is overkill, but I really don't want to hurt anyone, so I added it to be safe.  
> I promise no one gets hurt - just an entitled f*ckboy acting like entitled f*ckboys do, but if you're nervous, you can skip the entire first section of the story and you'll miss a scene that could be triggering.  
> I'm sorry and I love you and I hope that you don't hate me for the NERVE I have to insert so much DRAMA into one little CHAPTER.  
> See you on the other side.  
> xo

Anne left her room on the top floor of Green Gables in the brand new dress Marilla and Matthew had gifted her that morning - an emerald green gown made up with golden accents and ivory lace frills. She wore her hair pinned up in an elegant twist, and was so busy moving a pin that was digging into her skull that she didn’t notice Roy standing outside of her door until she had nearly barrelled into him. 

“Oh, Roy! Sorry about that. Were you… did you need me?” Anne felt flustered at having this unexpected companion waiting here for her, especially after her talk with Diana earlier. She forced herself to smile at him as she reminded herself that Roy was just a friend - a nice boy who was in every one of her first-semester courses at school, and who held many of the same interests as she did. A good friend.

Roy didn’t answer Anne at first - instead he took a step back and let his eyes rove over her from head to foot as if he were a jeweler appraising every facet and flaw of an uncut gem. Anne grew instantly uncomfortable, but before she could think of something else to say, Roy smirked down at her. 

“It really is a great dress,” his voice was low and quiet, and Anne didn’t know where to look anymore. “Did your… did Marilla really make it herself?” 

“I… uhh. Thank you, yes. She and Mrs. Lynde worked on it together.” Anne pressed her lips together, at a complete loss for what to say next. 

“The golden accents go quite well with the gift I gave you. Like it was all meant-to-be somehow...” Roy trailed off thoughtfully, and Anne once more had no idea how to respond to this comment, especially as the bracelet in question was back in the box it had come in on her dressing table. She wanted to find the right time to give it back to him, but not yet - not so soon. 

“May I escort you downstairs? Marilla just informed me that she and Matthew were going ahead to help the infamous Mrs. Lynde with something or another, so it looks like it will just be the two of us.” He offered his arm, his smile growing warmer. 

“Oh.  _ Oh _ ! No. No, Diana and her family are coming to get you.  _ Us _ ! They will bring their carriage to pick us up soon, I believe.” Anne swallowed thickly, then bent to lift the hem of her skirt and said, “I want to make sure this doesn’t… that I don’t trip on the stairs. After you.” She forced another toothless smile while her eyes roved the hallway, her pulse galloping. 

_ Perhaps Diana was right _ , Anne thought in a panic.  _ Perhaps Roy doesn’t want to be my friend. But  _ why _?! What have I done to encourage  _ this _?!  _

Roy didn’t move, and Anne looked up once more to find him staring intently at her. “Anne…” he breathed, then took a large step closer to her, causing her to move back slightly and bump into the wall behind her. He angled his head to the side, his voice lowering as he asked, “Do I make you… nervous?” His mouth quirked up at one end, and Anne had to suppress a shudder. 

Suddenly she was ten years old, and the older girls had cornered her in the attic of the orphanage, having caught her reading by candlelight again. She could feel the hot breath and see the sneering faces of her tormentors. She heard the rushing of blood in her ears. 

“Anne, I have feelings for you. And I think you have feelings for me, too.” Roy lifted his hand, caressing her cheek softly with the back of his fingers.    
  


“Roy… I-- no.  _ No.”  _ Anne tried to give force and volume to her voice, but it came out in a quiet, shaky breath. 

“I came here because I missed you - missed seeing your smile and hearing your voice. I’ve never been happier than I am with you, Anne. When I faced weeks without seeing you, I felt as Shakespeare must have when he wrote, ‘Love is not love which bends when removers are removed.’” 

Anne stopped breathing for a brief moment as she remembered laughingly including Roy’s “quirk” of misquoting famous lines of poetry in a letter she wrote to Gilbert. Suddenly, she didn’t find it funny. She didn’t find anything about this boy amusing in the least. 

“I know that you and  _ Gilbert _ ” here he sneered slightly “are courting, and that you thought you were in love with  _ him _ , but, Anne… you’re sixteen. And you live in a tiny, nothing town on this tiny, nothing island. Do you really believe you have found your true other half?” He scoffed lightly, almost good-naturedly. As though anyone would find the idea of Anne and Gilbert being meant and made for one another laughable. 

Anne’s hands were shaking, but it wasn’t fear that was pinning her down anymore - it was red-hot anger. “How dare you…” her voice was still too quiet, but it was no longer quavering. She pushed her shoulders back and locked her eyes onto his. 

“How  _ dare  _ you!” She was picking up volume now, and he took a small step backward. 

“I thought you were a friend - a kindred spirit. But you’re neither of those things. You’re a spoiled, conceited  _ bully _ , and I want nothing more to do with you! Not ever.” She wasn’t shouting - and a small voice inside of her head commended her for keeping her temper in the face of this repugnant, smug fool. Another, less noble voice lamented the presence of anything with which to strike the shrinking figure in front of her. 

Anne kept her face carefully devoid of emotion, although her eyes burned with rage and indignation and the hot, sticky remnant of fear that coated the lining of her stomach like wallpaper paste. 

“Anne, please. Don’t be like this. You don’t have to be afraid of what you’re feeling. We can be together - you  _ know _ we are perfect for one another. I understand you. I can give you a better life than he can…” He reached out toward her once more, and she quickly jerked her arm away from his outstretched hand. 

“Roy, you are under some sort of terrible delusion about the two of us. I have only ever seen you as a chum, and now I see you as a  _ jerk _ . Henceforth, I wish to never see you again. I am in love with Gilbert Blythe, but even if I wasn’t, I could never care for someone as unfeeling and shallow as you.” She spoke slowly and clearly, her cold gaze never leaving his. 

He lunged forward, grabbing her wrists and pulling her body close to his. “Anne, don’t  _ do _ this! I know you feel it, too. Just give me one kiss - I  _ know _ I can convince you...” 

“Roy,  _ stop! _ ” Anne was shouting now - she couldn’t help herself. Then she remembered that they were alone in the house, and her brain flooded with terror. 

Suddenly, a deadly-quiet voice spoke from behind Roy. “I think she has made herself perfectly clear,  _ Royal _ . It’s time for you to go.” 

Anne and Roy froze for a moment, then Roy stepped back, revealing Gilbert standing just behind him, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, nostrils flared, eyes murderous. 

_____

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay home, Anne? I can go...” Gilbert’s voice was soft, concerned, but he looked at the floor as he said it. He found he couldn’t hold her gaze for more than a moment or two since he had slammed the door of Green Gables closed in the red, angry face of Royal Gardner. 

“No, we-- I’m fine. I don’t want to miss the panto. And the Barrys will be here soon.” Anne spoke quietly, peeking tentatively up at Gilbert’s face with pinched eyebrows. 

“Okay.” It was all he could think to say. He sat down opposite her on the sitting room couch, and they both stared ahead blankly. 

Gilbert tucked his still-shaking hands under his legs, but soon thereafter his right knee began to bounce at a frantic pace. He couldn’t shake the thoughts that were plaguing him. 

_ What if I had arrived five minutes later? What if I hadn’t come at all? We had planned to meet at the Town Hall, but I couldn’t wait to see her, and then… ‘ _ I can give you a better life than  _ he _ can…’ Gilbert’s vision went red around the edges again.  _ That obnoxious rat. The detestable pig. How  _ dare  _ he.  _

Gilbert recalled scaling the stairs at Green Gables slowly once he heard the voices. He had moved carefully toward them, his heart pounding in his chest as he caught the words  _ true other half.  _

And then Anne had spoken, and she sounded… angry? Confused? Gilbert couldn’t make out her words - the pounding of his own heart had grown too loud in his ears. By the time he had made it to the top floor of the old house, he stood frozen in panic for a moment, then his legs carried him swiftly to the scene in front of him - to where Roy stood gripping Anne, who looked cowed and small in the corner next to her closed bedroom door. 

Guilt made Gilbert’s stomach flip over, and he bit his lip, still not daring to look at Anne. He hadn’t meant to let his adrenaline take over - hadn’t meant to grab Roy by the collar after he stood facing Gilbert, unmoving and petulant; hadn’t meant to shove him a little too forcefully down the hallway - away from Anne; hadn’t meant to growl through his teeth at him to get his things and get out. 

Gilbert had followed him down the hallway, watching with growing impatience as Roy muttered to himself about overreactions and fickle females as he shoved his things into his bag. Gilbert may have shoved him once -- okay, fine -  _ twice _ \-- as he hurried him down the stairs and out of the door. When Roy turned on the lawn, he had looked hopefully over Gilbert’s shoulder, and Gilbert turned just in time to see red blur past him onto the top step of Green Gables’ porch. 

Gilbert’s heart had jumped into his throat.  _ Was she going after this guy? Would she stop him from leaving? Choose  _ him _ over Gilbert? _

But then she had stood tall, thrown something sharply at Roy - a small rectangular box which hit him squarely on the chest and then bounced off onto the hard-packed snow and mud beneath his feet - and coldly uttered, “Goodbye, Roy.” 

Gilbert felt proud of himself - proud that he hadn’t shouted, or thrown a punch at the cretin’s smug, blonde head - but now he couldn’t help but feel sick. Had he lost Anne’s trust, reacting the way he had? And how was  _ she _ doing?  _ She _ , who had been through so much already in her young life - so much neglect and abuse and heartache. She had lost a friend, but worse than that…

Gilbert knew that he would never get the image of her - small and afraid, with him towering over her - out of his mind. Thinking of it made him crazy: he wanted to fight and shout and vomit and most of all keep her safe - take her and lock her away with him and never let her feel that way ever again. 

His knee continued its frenetic pace as he stared at the blank wall straight ahead - wanting to comfort her, wanting to stop this hot, wild, sickening feeling coursing through him. Not knowing how. 

_____

Anne had never been at a loss for words more in her entire life than she was now. 

Her mind buzzed - blank and full; white and bursting with color all at once. The majority of her mind worried over the blank eyes and furious energy roiling off of the boy sitting next to her, but another part of her mind replayed the last ten minutes of her life on a loop - Roy’s sneer, Roy’s smirk, Roy’s scoff, Roy’s hands on her wrists, harsh and unyielding. Adrenaline pounded through her veins still, making it impossible for her to clear her head or take in a full breath. 

She grabbed ahold of this thought - her breathing - and focused in upon it. She inhaled as slowly as she could, and then quietly blew her breath out of her open lips, taking twice as long on the exhale. After ten breaths, she felt she was finally able to draw in enough air to make her lungs expand fully. Twenty breaths after that, and she felt her heart-rate slow to a manageable palpitation. 

She had been attacked - assaulted - but she was okay. She was safe. She had stood up for herself, was just about to shout for help. She would have been safe. 

Except… 

Except that Marilla and Matthew had both been at the Town Hall. 

Except that Jerry was spending Christmas day at his home on the other side of town. 

Except that no one would have heard her call. There was no one nearby to help her if he hadn’t listened - hadn’t stopped. 

Anne felt her breaths turn shallow once more, and she focused her thoughts on slowing them again. 

After another minute, she was able to feel safe once more. She was home, she was safe, and Gilbert… 

Gilbert had found her. Gilbert had been there. Gilbert had been…

_ Wonderful… Heroic… Possibly homicidal?  _

Gilbert had been there to help her, and now? Now he couldn’t even look at her. 

Anne breathed slowly in and out a few more times, then turned to look at him in the waning sunlight coming in through the front windows. He stared blankly ahead of him, his hands under his thighs, his knee bouncing manically. 

She had no idea what he was thinking - was he angry? Afraid? Hurt? She screwed up her courage - she couldn’t know unless she asked, and she determined that, whatever he was feeling, she wanted to thank him for being there. 

She took one more deep breath, and opened her mouth to say his name just as he turned to her. 

“Gilbert?” 

“Anne.” 

They looked into each other’s eyes, their gaze holding, and then both huffed out a laugh, unsmiling. 

He spoke again, turning his body to face hers, his eyes searching. “Anne - are you…” he shook his head slightly and swallowed. “Are you alright?” 

She nodded, tears glazing over her eyes, making them shine in the twilight. “Yes, I’m alright. I’m… oh, Gil. I’m so glad you were here. He-- I-- I don’t want to think of what could have happened if…” 

Gilbert’s throat convulsed again, as though he were trying to swallow down a brick lodged there. Then he moved forward quickly, dropping to his knees at the floor in front of her and gathering up her skirt in his hands as if he were drowning and she was the only thing that could keep him afloat. 

“When I saw the look on your face -- the way he gripped you…” he buried his head in her lap like a small child, and her heart felt as though it would burst with the fear of remembering clashing against the tender surge of love she felt for this good, kind man. 

“Shhh… it’s okay. I’m alright.” She soothed him, petting his hair as a few tears overflowed onto her cheeks. 

_____

Gilbert stayed still - holding onto Anne for dear life and breathing in her comforting, familiar scent for an interminable moment. She was alright. She was here with him, the soft warmth under his hands reassuring him as he worked to control his breathing and slow the hammering of his heart. 

Her breath hitched above him, and his head snapped so he could look at her. Silent tears were falling thick and fast down her cheeks, and she slid to the floor beside him, kneeling up and holding his face between her hands. 

“I’m so sorry, Gil. I never meant--”

His eyes grew wide, horrified. “Anne,  _ no _ . You have  _ nothing  _ to apologize for - do you hear me?  _ Nothing _ .” He held her face in both of his hands, wiping away her tears with his thumbs and staring into her watery blue eyes. He wanted so badly to kiss her, but he was afraid to take advantage - to make her feel more afraid than she already was, so he leaned back and sat on his heels, his knees digging into the knobbly rug beneath him. 

“I should have known - should have guessed what he was doing… how he felt. I didn’t mean to encourage any-- and then I just… I  _ froze _ . I never thought that I would just...”

“Anne, how could you have known? You treated him like a friend. You’re such a good friend to everyone - the problem was  _ not _ you. But...  _ I _ am the one who is sorry - I didn’t move quickly enough when I heard your voices… I didn’t know, and he almost…” 

Anne leaned forward and wrapped her arms around Gilbert’s shoulders, shaking her head into the hollow of his neck. “No no no…” she whispered. “Gil, don’t.” 

He held her close, rubbing small, soothing circles into her lower back. After another moment, Gilbert eased himself into a seated position on the floor, and then pulled Anne into his lap. He brushed a few hairs that had come loose from her chignon off of her forehead, and placed a soft kiss there. 

Anne pressed her forehead against his, breathing in his love and security and nearness, but she found that he wasn’t near enough - not hardly. 

Pulling on the lapels of his dark jacket, she held tightly to him and pressed her lips against his. Their kiss was soft and sweet at first, but soon Anne found herself thinking only in clipped commands:  _ him, more, now.  _

She moved to her knees once more, straddling Gilbert’s lap with her arms wrapped around his shoulders, their chests pressed together. Gilbert opened his mouth, deepening their kiss. Anne made a soft noise of pleasure and desperate longing to be closer, deeper, and Gilbert granted her wish, pulling her to lay on the rug beneath them, his arms keeping his weight from punishing her as he pressed every part of his body against hers. She arched her back slightly, pulling at his shoulders to bring him closer, closer. 

A sudden knock at the door sent him flying up to a kneeling position. Anne’s hands flew, too - to her lips, then her hair, then to push down the skirt that had rucked up past her knees, her eyes wild as they met his. 

He didn’t know whether he was more shocked at the arrival of the Barrys, whom he could hear now chatting pleasantly outside of the kitchen door, or at what the Barry’s arrival had interrupted. He locked eyes with Anne for a long moment, both of them breathing heavily. Gilbert’s heart felt frozen, locked-up. He was suddenly seized with terror that he had taken advantage; that he had hurt or scared or overwhelmed her, and in the state she had been in, too!  _ What is  _ wrong _ with you, Blythe?!  _ he chastised himself. 

And then her eyes crinkled into a warm, wicked smile, and the heat and happiness in her gaze thawed out his anxious, eager heart. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *peeks out from my hiding place*  
> h-h-hey? I... uhhh... I posted twice in a single day again?  
> So, like... you can't be THAT mad at me, right?  
> *breaks into a sweat*  
> What I meant to say is... Are you... are we... okay?  
> Aghh I am so, so sorry.  
> I didn't introduce Roy intending for things to go this way. I just thought, "Ooh, jealous Gil is so effing adorable..." but then...  
> Then nothing I could do to get rid of Roy seemed in character for the obnoxious little shit I had made of him, so...
> 
> Please forgive me. I promise it will just be happiness and loving looks and dry-humping on the living room floor from here on out! Cross my heart.


	13. Did My Heart Love til Now?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *****  
> “I have actually been asking her to be mine for years now. She said no, what?” he turned his complacent smile on Anne, raising his eyebrows slightly. “Must have been a thousand times? Even begged her down on my knees once, all to no avail. But then, one beautiful summer day…” - here Gilbert filled his lungs, sighing out the air in a dramatic stream as he turned back to the Boulters - “...then she hit her head - hard - on the stovepipe at Green Gables. She was out cold for quite a while, but once she came around, I visited her sickbed and asked once more if she would have me. And, wouldn’t you know it? Her answer had changed! Isn’t love wonderful? She still has the lump, if you want to see it?”  
> *****

“Well, you see...” Gilbert had her arm tucked firmly into his as he spoke to Mr. and Mrs. Stephen Irving, who had cornered the couple to ask with false brightness the same question they had already heard  _ much _ too often in their time at home --  _ “ _ How _ did you two… that is to say…  _ when  _ did you begin your courtship?”  _

“We actually started courting years and years ago, but agreed that we wouldn’t share our happy news until we had both left Avonlea School.” Gilbert nodded solemnly at the shocked faces in front of him, not daring to peek at Anne for fear they would both start laughing if their eyes met. 

“It’s true, I was  _ dead gone  _ on her from the moment I saw her.” 

Gilbert had sat through the carriage-ride and then the entirety of the Christmas production with Anne’s hand clasped firmly in his. He didn’t know whether the constant contact was for her benefit or his, but he couldn’t stop and examine his needs or motives just then. His head was too busy buzzing over the electric current that ran between his body and hers, and the way it made him feel like losing contact with her would cause irreparable damage. 

He couldn’t bring himself to look at her then, either - terrified and elated by the notion that he might see the same frantic energy sparking in her eyes. Afraid of what he might do if he did. 

So, instead, he chatted cordially and tried to be interested and interesting as he interacted with the Barrys and enjoyed the panto. Laughed and cheered and sang along at all of the right parts. Answered direct questions, then spent the rest of his energy nodding and smiling. Put on quite a show, himself, though his head and heart weren’t in it. Thankfully there was enough going on all around him that no one seemed to notice his preoccupation, nor his restless thumb, which ceaselessly caressed the back of Anne’s hand in wide, slow arcs. 

A few minutes after the Irvings had extricated themselves from conversation with Anne and Gilbert, and the couple was confronted by Mr. and Mrs. Levi Boulter. This time the answer to the tiresome question once more sprang to Gilbert’s lips. 

“I have actually been asking her to be mine for  _ years _ now. She said no, what?” he turned his complacent smile on Anne, raising his eyebrows slightly. “Must have been a thousand times? Even begged her down on my knees once, all to no avail. But then, one beautiful summer day…” - here Gilbert filled his lungs, sighing out the air in a dramatic stream as he turned back to the Boulters - “...then she hit her head -  _ hard _ \- on the stovepipe at Green Gables. She was out cold for quite a while, but once she came around, I visited her sickbed and asked once more if she would have me. And, wouldn’t you know it? Her answer had changed! Isn’t love  _ wonderful _ ? She still has the lump, if you want to see it?” 

Gilbert couldn’t help himself - he looked down at Anne once more to find her entire face reddened with mirth and mortification and unvoiced laughter. He squeezed her hand and quickly said, “Excuse us, would you?” and dragged her away to the refreshment table so they could both quietly laugh until their sides ached and their tears of amusement had dried. 

Just as they had taken hold of themselves once more, Mr. and Mrs. Andrews appeared nearby, helping themselves to cups of punch and wishing Anne and Gilbert a Merry Christmas. When the well-wishes were returned, the dreaded inquiry was put forward once more. The stiff spine and haughty expression of Mrs. Andrews had always irked Anne, but the way in which she quite literally looked down her nose at her as if she were something unpleasant on the bottom of a shoe caused Anne to squeeze Gilbert’s hand, signalling that she wanted a turn at the fun. 

“Tis a long tale of bitter woe, but I can tell it rather quickly, as I don’t want to keep you on this lovely, festive night.” Anne’s eyebrows and voice lowered, her entire aspect growing preternatural. 

“You see,  last summer Gilbert got lost on his way home, and ran into a dark forest that was overseen by a malevolent spirit where he was...  _ cursed _ .” She was whispering dramatically here, her free hand waving in front of her.

“Desperately needing some sort of anti-spell performed on him so he could survive the night, young Mr. Blythe approached my lair in the woods and begged me to help him. Seeing his predicament, I took pity upon him. We bartered, and he agreed to pay my price - one life-saving spell in exchange for three, perfect kisses…” Anne let her mystifying words hang in the air between them for the briefest moment. 

“He has given me only two so far, but I’m actually beginning dreading the third. I think once he has delivered it I just might turn him into a toad and keep him in my pocket - it’s just so reassuring to have a good man around, don’t you agree, Mrs. Andrews?”

Anne smiled in faux-innocence at her dumbstruck audience. She felt the stunned silence as much as she heard it, and then Mrs. Andrews turned on her heel and marched away, her husband following in her wake, shaking his head to himself and looking back at her with incredulous eyes and a deep frown more than once. 

Turning her too-wide, too-innocent eyes upon Gilbert and finding him likewise stunned and still, Anne burst out into a loud peal of laughter. 

“What, too much?” She smiled wickedly at him once more, and he suddenly forgot how to breathe, remembering a similar look of elation and devilry on her face earlier that evening. 

Gilbert couldn’t wait to get out of this loud, crowded room to where he could be alone with her again. His sudden need for and inability to have her body close to his, to put his lips on hers, made him feel almost dizzy. Did love always feel this way? This good, this… disorienting? 

He leaned in to press his lips to her cheek, and when he pulled back - after leaving his lips to linger a moment too long - he found her smiling at him so brilliantly that his knees shook.

“I’m going to go and ask Mr. Barry if they are ready to leave,” he murmured, squeezing her hand and turning to go. 

As he turned away, though, he found that his fingers still gripped hers. He pulled on her arm lightly, then turned quickly back to her, a buzzing disorientation ruling his thoughts once more. His appendage seemed to have a mind of its own, and it was of no mind to let her go, apparently. 

“Perhaps I will join you,” Anne smiled coyly down at their entwined fingers, then back up into his eyes. He gulped, thoughts a blank white droning, and nodded.

_____

Anne had never felt so… so  _ alert _ before in her entire life. 

It felt as though every nerve ending and synapse in her body was firing, and the sensation would have been unnerving and terrible if it wasn’t for the strange suspicion that it all stemmed from the warm hand in hers. Every time Gilbert’s thumb moved across the back of her hand, the sensation increased to the point of near-pain for a brief moment, and Anne felt like shuddering from head to toe, or maybe running out into the snow to lay down and cool the little fires that engulfed her. 

He had just looked at her as though he felt it, too. As though they both were involved in some sort of bone-deep metamorphosis and the searing fire was part of it and no one else could tell at all. And then he had said he wanted to take her home. 

No. No, that’s not what he had said. But it’s what she heard, anyway, and he turned to find out about carriages but he just… didn’t let her go. The aching heat thrummed through her body again, and she moved forward to accompany him. She wasn’t ready to let go, either. 

“Oh,  _ there _ you two are! I have been trying to catch you all evening! Say, another courting Avonlea couple! How...  _ lovely _ . Remind me, how on earth did it come to be that you… erm… I mean to say, how long have the two of you been courting?” It was Mrs. Pye this time, and Anne very nearly groaned out loud. They needed to get out of here. 

“Merry Christmas, Mrs. Pye,” Gilbert nodded politely at her pinched-face, then continued on in a single breath. “Though we have only been courting for five months now, I have loved Anne from afar for years without her knowing it. Then, one day Diana Barry yelled at me on a crowded train, so I decided it was time to fess up to Anne, and, miraculously, she decided to give me a chance with her. We are very much in love. Would you please excuse us? Our sleigh is waiting.” 

Anne let herself be pulled behind Gilbert like the tail of a comet, grinning from ear to ear as they made their way outside. 

Gilbert sucked in a few deep, slow breaths of bracing winter air as Anne studied him, smiling. When he turned to face her, there was an apology in his eyes, but he was brought up short by her expression. 

“You win,” she sighed, her smile softening, lighting her eyes. “You truly, unequivocally win.” 

Gilbert’s eyebrows drew together in confusion, then realization dawned on his face and he barked a laugh. 

“Oh no. No, I didn’t. The bet was to tell the biggest yarn to the town busibodies, and I failed miserably at that. All of mine were based in truth - at least in part. But,  _ Anne _ ,” here he had to stop as a laughing fit caught up to him for a moment. “That story you told the Andrews?!  _ Where  _ do you come up with these things, my wicked Dryad?” He laughed again for a long moment, and she laughed with him. 

“Wait, no! You’re forgetting -- your tale of my -- my  _ stovepipe head injury _ \-- which was  _ absolutely not  _ based in truth!” Anne was laughing so hard that her accusation came out in fits and starts. 

Gilbert grinned villainously. “Well, it  _ could _ be true. After all, it still doesn’t make sense - you loving me back…” He had sobered, and reached up with the back of his free hand to caress her cheek, his gaze so intensely loving that the sharp heat prickled over Anne’s skin once more. 

After a moment, Anne squeezed his hand and playfully inclined her head. “So… shall we call it a T-R-U-C-E once more, then?” 

Gilbert grinned hugely, and was just leaning down to kiss her - not pausing to consider where they were, or who might see them, when Diana called Anne’s name. 

“There you are! Are you ready to go? Father just went to fetch the sleigh. Wasn’t that a fantastic panto? Though not quite so fantastic as it was in our day, though. Eh, Anne?” Diana’s cheeks were pink and she was blissfully unaware of the moment she had just interrupted. 

Anne took a full step away from Gilbert toward Diana, but their hands remained linked together, and this time it was her thumb that stroked the backs of his fingers softly, squeezing once. Gilbert felt the silent message in her touch - they would discuss armistice when they could be alone again. 

The sleigh slid over the smooth, snow-packed roads in the quiet, peaceful darkness. Anne looked out over the fields and farms - the landscape that she so loved, no matter the season - and Anne felt warm and content and just a little sleepy. She longed to lean her head onto Gilbert’s shoulder and press her nose into the warmth of his neck and close her eyes and breathe him in and spend the entire night that way. 

Instead, as Minnie May began to enthusiastically recount her part in the panto, and why she had done a  _ much _ better job than that insipid Dora Jones - who only  _ wished _ she had half as much talent as Minnie May possessed in her pinky finger (to which exclamation her parents enthusiastically agreed) - Anne leaned over and whispered to Gilbert, “Walk me home?” 

She leaned back to look at his face, and saw his adam’s apple bob once as he swallowed. He wasn’t looking at her eyes, but down at her lips as he slowly nodded his head once. She could tell he understood what she wanted - for him to come to Green Gables, to not accept a ride home, but to stay with her - to stay as long as he could. 

She wanted him to stay forever - the thought made her shiver, and he leaned his body closer to hers, warming and comforting and somehow communicating to her fevered soul:  _ Yes, forever. _

_____

“No, really, Mr. Barry. Thank you so much, but I promised Matthew and Marilla that I would see Anne safely in and stay for a cup of tea this evening. Thank you again, so much, for allowing us to accompany you all this evening. Merry Christmas, Sir. Ma’am. Goodnight Diana, Minnie May.” Gilbert touched his cap to each of them in turn after helping Anne out of the sleigh at the gate of Green Gables, and they both stood silent and still as they watched the party drive off toward Orchard Slope. 

Gilbert pushed the gate open wide enough to lead Anne through it, then turned and closed it behind him. He thought about seizing her hand again, but now that their physical contact had broken he forced himself to shove his hands deep into his pockets. 

He planned to walk her to the door, to gently kiss her goodnight, and to take himself on a long walk in the frigid darkness in an attempt to clear the dark, thick fog that had kept him from seeing anything or anyone but  _ her _ all evening. Each time his thoughts had wandered back to the Green Gables sitting room rug - to the two of them pressed up against each other so closely that he knew they had both felt things neither of them had ever felt before, both emotionally and physically - he had forced himself to the present moment; to the feeling of her warm, soft hand in his, and nothing else. 

But now. Now that they were alone in this close darkness, walking slowly side-by-side back toward the scene of his near-undoing… Gilbert forced his thoughts to the sharp wind on his cheeks, the frozen crunching beneath his boots. She deserved so much better than the thick, concupiscent swamp of his mind at present. He was better than this. Could be better.  _ Would  _ be better - for her.

The windows at Green Gables were all dark - Matthew and Marilla having left the town celebration at least an hour before the Barrys, Gilbert assumed they had already gone to bed. As they approached the porch, Gilbert’s step stuttered - preparing to say goodnight there on the lawn, before he could invite himself in, before his thoughts could return to the rug before the hearth once more. 

Anne turned around a step or two ahead of him, and smiled at him from beneath her eyelashes, then she quietly invited him inside, speculating aloud that Matthew and Marilla had probably gone to bed long since. 

Gilbert’s eyes darkened as he searched hers for a motive beyond an innocent desire to prolong their evening together, but he didn’t find anything like the tenebrous hunger he battled in her clear, inviting expression. 

He suddenly wished that he had asked Bash about this - about the way being close to Anne made him crave  _ more _ closeness instead of sating his desire for her in any way. He remembered how it had been, spending time with Bash and Mary before they were married; the way he had made himself as scarce as possible after their wedding with work and study and long, aimless walks across Avonlea - for his sake as much as for theirs. How he felt the heaviness of their love and desire for one another like a physical presence in the house at times. How much he had half-hated, half-envied it all. 

“Anne, I don’t… I’m not sure that’s a great idea…” Gilbert ran a hand across his face as he spoke, hating the words as soon as they had left his lips. But he knew it was the right thing to say - he couldn’t risk such bold impropriety under Matthew and Marilla’s roof, and still didn’t fully trust himself after the events of this evening. 

Anne surprised him by smiling wider, stepping closer. “Gil,” she breathed quietly. “Come in with me. We need to talk.” Her smile tilted slightly crooked, almost mischievous. “Just talk.” 

Immediately any sense of will, of right or wrong, left Gilbert’s mind, and he heard himself murmur, “Alright, yes. To talk.” 

_____

Anne held Gilbert’s hand tightly in hers and made her way straight to the stairs once they had closed the door to the house behind them. She didn’t turn to look at Gilbert’s face, but felt his jolt of surprise jerk her arm back slightly - she kept doggedly on. She wanted to be alone with him, and knew that she couldn’t tell him the things she needed to at her kitchen table. 

They both walked slowly, careful to be quiet on the stairs, their footfalls turning tip-toed as they passed Marilla’s closed bedroom door. Anne saw a faint light emitting from under the door, and made the split-second decision to pull Gilbert past her, gesturing him toward her room, then turned to knock quietly at Marilla’s bedroom door. 

She saw panic on his features as he hurried down the hall, and smiled to herself as she heard Marilla’s quiet, “Come in, Anne.” 

“Hello, how did you enjoy the Christmas panto this evening? I noticed that not  _ one _ plum puff was left on the refreshments table by the time I made it there.” Anne smiled fondly at her mother-figure, who was sitting up in her bed and laying her Bible and reading glasses down gently on her bedside table. 

“Oh, well.” Marilla blustered for a moment, then chose to ignore Anne’s glaring effort at flattery, answering instead, “It was a lovely play. I especially enjoyed Ms. Stacy as the villain of the piece.” 

Marilla smiled sardonically, but Anne saw through her dry criticism to the warmth beneath. 

It had taken Anne so long - longer than it ever had before - to figure Marilla out. It was only after years and countless hurt feelings that she was finally able to see through her facade and realize that the tough, no-nonsense exterior Marilla had cemented around herself encased a heart of pure gold and more love than anyone might expect an old maid to contain. Since then, Anne had grown to cherish her all the more for every prickly or salty remark, knowing the pure heart beneath as well as her own. 

Anne laughed warmly, sitting herself on the edge of Marilla’s bed. “Yes, she looked quite dashing in that faux-mustache and her signature slacks! And Mrs. Lynde truly outdid herself with the script this year! Who knew that all anyone needed to save Prince Edward Island from the evil Lord Pride was a homemade apple tart - but only if made from apples grown here by local farmers and sweetened with cream from PEI’s own magical cattle!” Anne’s voice had turned hyper-theatrical as she quoted the melodrama. 

“Yes,” Marilla’s eyes danced in the candlelight, “well, Rachel has had more than her fair share of experience with Humble Pie. They do say one should write what they know, after all.” 

They laughed then, both of them somewhat guiltily, then Anne reached out to place her hand on top of Marilla’s and squeezed. 

After a moment, Marilla’s face grew serious again, and she leaned forward slightly. “Anne, I noticed that your, um, friend wasn’t with you this evening, and when I got home I saw his things were gone. Did… is everything alright?” 

Anne forced her face to maintain its placid expression. “Oh, yes. He just needed to… well, to be honest, he had the wrong idea about...him and me. I had to-- I asked him to leave.” She pressed her shoulders back as she finished, determined not to alarm her guardian. 

Marilla studied her for another moment, then nodded. “Well then. I noticed that Gilbert seemed rather… you two were fairly attached at the hip this evening.” 

Opening her mouth to respond, Anne realized that she had no idea what to say to such an observation. Could she tell Marilla how Gilbert had saved her from whatever it was Royal Gardner and his insistence that she belonged with him -  _ to  _ him - had planned for her; tell her how frightened and then fevered she and Gilbert had both been afterward; how they still had so much to talk about. How he was there - just down the hall in her bedroom - waiting for her?

Anne’s mouth snapped closed, and she shrugged her shoulders, her eyes unblinking as she stared into Marilla’s. 

“Anne, you and Gilbert… you both seem so… I don’t know… so _happy_.” Not expecting _this_ sentiment to come from Marilla, Anne’s mouth fell softly open once more. 

“You both have spent the last few days strutting around looking like the cat who caught the canary, and I want you to know…” Here Anne braced herself for a word of warning or chastisement. 

“Anne, I’m just… I’m so proud of you. You’re juggling school and a beau and your friendships and all of your passions and dreams. I’m sure it’s disorienting, coming home again with so much going on. I think you’re handling it all beautifully. You’re… well, I wasn’t in a hurry for it to happen, but you’ve become a woman in these past few months, and quite a capable one - not that I ever had any doubts.” 

Here Marilla paused thoughtfully. “Well, maybe I did, once or twice. About whether you would ever make a pie without forgetting it was in the oven and nearly burning the house down…” 

Her eyes shone, and this time it was unshed tears making the candlelight catch and dance in them. “I’m so glad to be a part of your life. And I support you - wherever you take your life after school. You have so many options, and I hope you won’t wander too far from home for too long, but even if you do…I just... wanted you to know. I love you, Anne. Merry Christmas.” 

Not one for leaving tears unshed, Anne felt them roll down her cheeks as she stared into the stoic face that she knew and loved so well. She lunged forward to throw her arms around the only mother she had ever known, and kissed her cheek warmly. 

Anne thought again about telling Marilla everything that was racing through her mind and burdening her heart, but she felt her pride swell as she played the words back in her mind,  _ you’ve become a woman, and quite a capable one _ . Anne straightened her spine and gave Marilla a kiss on her other cheek. 

“Merry Christmas, Marilla.” 

_____

Gilbert sat on the edge of Anne’s bed, shoulders stiff, knee bouncing nervously. 

He thought about leaving more than once in the time he waited. He couldn’t help remembering the anxiety of just a few days previous, when he had gone along with Anne’s hare-brained scheme of sneaking him into her boarding house. How wonderful and awful it had all been. And now…

Gilbert thought about Marilla down the hall, and Matthew downstairs, and his knee began to bounce in doubletime. 

When he heard soft footsteps approach the end of the hall, his heart pounded a frantic rhythm against his ribcage, then stuttered to a stop as the doorknob turned. Anne entered swiftly, quietly closing and locking the door behind her, then she turned, her back to the door, hands behind her against the smooth wood of the doorframe, and smiled almost-shyly at him. 

Gilbert did not return the expression. Instead he stood swiftly, but he didn’t approach her. He clasped his hands in front of him and anxiously whispered, “Anne, I shouldn’t be here. I should go. We can talk tomorrow, but I can’t just--” 

“No,” Anne wasn’t whispering, but her voice was soft and quiet. “Don’t go. I want to talk - we  _ need _ to talk, Gil. And… and I don’t want to be alone right now. Not after… earlier.  _ Stay _ , just for a moment. Please? I won’t sleep a wink tonight, but at least… with you here, at least I don’t have to be afraid.” 

It was the last word - the way her voice was barely audible as she spoke it - that calmed Gilbert. He had already decided to turn her down - to promise to return the next morning, to save all of the things he wanted to say until then. But now… 

He was not going to leave her here alone and thinking of that  _ idiot brute _ , of the way he had her cornered and cowering just a few steps from where she now stood. Gilbert was at her side before he consciously decided to be, and he wrapped his arms protectively around her. 

They stood that way for a long moment, and then Anne spoke into his shoulder. “Gilbert, I don’t think… I mean, I don’t know what Roy was going to… I had no idea that he could be so…” He felt her inhale a deep breath, then she continued more steadily. “I am so glad you came to see me this evening.” 

He tightened his arms around her and planted a kiss on the top of her head, breathing in her scent and thanking every lucky star in heaven that he had come, too. “I’ll never let anyone hurt you, Anne. I promise. I swear it.” 

After a moment, he felt her shoulders relax into their embrace, and she turned her head into his neck. Her soft breath made him shiver as she pressed her lips near his ear and murmured, “I want to tell you something I’ve been thinking about, but first… do you think -- would you mind if we got into bed. I’m so tired and electric and achy, and it’s just so chilly. I want nothing more than to curl up and hold you close and tell you all of the things that are prowling around in my head right now like caged, hungry tigers.” 

Her cheek surely felt his throat bob as he swallowed thickly against it, then he confessed in a strained voice, “Anne, I don’t think… I can’t trust… downstairs when we--” He stopped and swallowed forcefully once more, and had just opened his mouth to make a  _ coherent  _ refusal, when she released him. 

As she stepped back Gilbert saw that her hands were already busy undoing the buttons down the front of her emerald green gown. As his mind registered what she was doing, she turned her back to him and said in a quiet, sleepy voice that he was sure she didn’t  _ intend  _ to be so heart-stoppingly alluring, “Will you get the pins from my hair? My head is beginning to ache...” 

He capitulated instantly again, once more internally cursing his inability to tell her no and mean it. His hands went to the soft chignon at the back of her head, and began probing gently for pins to untangle from her long, softly curling tresses. 

As he found the fourth pin, the bulk of her curls fell down her back, and he ran his fingers through her hair - ostensibly to find any fasteners he may have missed, though surely enjoying the process far too much. She turned to look at him through half-lidded eyes without turning her torso, thanked him, then walked toward her wardrobe. 

By the time her dress had slipped down her shoulders, Gilbert realized what was happening and quickly turned his back to give her privacy. He felt her tap his shoulder and turned to find her in the same long, white nightgown of their last night together - the one that was so intimate and beautiful; the one that was never all that far from his thoughts since Charlottetown, whether waking or sleeping. 

She took his hand then and led him to her bed, climbing in immediately and laying on her side. She settled herself at the far side of the mattress, making sure there was room for him. 

Instead of climbing in next to her, he reached down to the heavy quilt at the bottom of her bed, pulling it up over her and tucking her in tightly. Then he sat gingerly on his side of the bed, and, after a loaded silence and stillness, he began running his fingers through her hair once more. She closed her eyes and made a pleasant humming sound as she rolled to her side and burrowed deeper into her pillow. 

_ I could stay here forever. _ The thought punched him in the gut - it knocked the air out of him for a moment. It wasn’t the longing to stay so much as the feeling that this is  _ his place _ \- here, next to her. 

But.

But they aren’t married - not even engaged. This is only the second time he has ever seen her and a bed in the same room. Yet this is the most natural and comfortable scene he has ever been a part of, and he hated that this isn’t where he belongs - not  _ really.  _ Not  _ yet _ . 

She turned her head toward him slightly, then stopped as a huge, silent yawn overtook her. “Maybe we  _ should _ talk tomorrow.” He laughed gently and smoothed the hair from her forehead. “How about a bedtime story instead, Carrots?” 

She laughed faintly, then replied, “Watch it, Slate Face,” she threatened drowsily. “And, yes, please, to a bedtime story. But may I ask you something first?” She rolled onto her back to look at him in time to watch as he said “Sure.” 

“Did you mean what you said last night? About… Do you really think about marrying me?” 

He couldn’t comprehend the sincerity of her question - it seemed so obvious to him, that he would want to marry her, that he searched her face for signs of teasing before he could answer, his voice suddenly thick with surprise or perhaps at the ferocity of the emotions unleashed by her innocent inquiry. 

“Yes, Anne. I-- Sometimes it feels like  _ all  _ I think about.” He didn’t laugh or smile - he wasn’t joking in the slightest, and needed her to know it. 

She nodded to herself slowly, her eyes roving over his face, then stated quietly, “It makes sense. You were ready to get married -- before. With Winnifred.” 

Gilbert was already shaking his head before she conjured Winnifred, replying with more intensity and equal sincerity as before. “No, that’s not it. I didn’t want-- it’s not the same at  _ all _ .” He took a steadying breath. 

“Anne, I thought I should propose to Winnifred because that’s what it would take to become a man. But when I think about marrying  _ you _ … it has nothing to do with trying to do something  _ right _ or with what it takes to  _ become _ something else. When I think about marrying  _ you _ \--” 

He looked across the room, shaking his head as he tried to collect his tangled thoughts. “I think about marrying you so I never have to say goodnight. So I never have to sneak you into or out of bed.” He turned to look at her, winking cheekily at her once before continuing. 

“I want to marry you so I can watch your eyes light up with laughter and passion and interest every day, and know that you’re _mine_. So I can be _yours_. So I can give you everything and you never have to wonder or worry or wait. It’s the most _right_ thing I can imagine - not the right thing to do, or a smart decision for two young people who are still in school and have so little experience. It’s _right_ because it’s you, and it’s _always been you_ and I can’t wait to start forever with you.” He was still holding her gaze, but his expression had turned intense. 

As he spoke, her eyes had started out politely interested, then turned surprised, and then enraptured. By the time Gilbert was done speaking, Anne had a far-away look in her eyes that let Gilbert know that she could see it all suddenly - see their lives stretching out in front of them, see the future as he imagined it. 

After a long moment, her gaze returned to the present day - to his. She shook her head slightly.

“I’m sorry.” She said the words heavily, and his heart fractured. 

“I was much too judgmental - I was  _ cruel _ \- about Moody and Ruby’s engagement news. I… I didn’t think about how you might be feeling. I didn’t consider… had never let myself consider our future in the same way…” Anne sat upright and smiled at him. “Marriage wouldn’t be so bad, really, now that I think of it. Not if it is more than a shining moment in a pretty white dress. Not if it meant being bound to my equal and partner as Life Mates.”

Gilbert felt himself exhale in relief, and his heart had mended its fracture before she had finished. “Life Mates, huh?” He grinned at her. “I like it.” 

He reached out to touch her cheek with his thumb, then added, “I’m not in a rush, Anne. I mean…  _ Wait _ , don’t get me wrong - I would marry you  _ tomorrow _ , if you’d let me. If it made any sense for us at the moment…” He flashed her a rakish grin to soften the intensity of his declaration. “But we can wait. I will wait until you are ready and until it makes sense and until I can prove to you that you are safe with me. And possibly even until this silly town gets over the shock of our being together, if such a day ever comes.” 

His teasing tone belied the happiness that was coursing through him at the thought of standing up in front of God and all Avonlea and claiming her for himself, and when the urge to kiss her overtook him, he wasn’t strong enough to resist it. 

Reaching out to take her face in his hands, Gilbert helped Anne ease back onto her pillow as he advanced, until he had to place his hands palm-down on either side of her head so he could lean his upper body over hers and deliver a kiss that was long and deep and slow. It felt like a promise, and it was all he could give her now - a promise of the future he wanted more than life itself. 

A small, greedy voice in the back of his head noted how easy it would be to climb on top of her - to crawl under the covers next to her and pick up where they had left off earlier that evening. When that voice grew louder, more insistent, Gilbert pulled back from the kiss and returned to his place on the other side of her bed. 

Anne’s eyes blazed up at him from her pillow - her expression a heady mixture of sleepiness and dissatisfaction that made Gilbert close both of his eyes tight and tell himself it was time to leave. 

He repeated it like a mantra - like it would be the thing to make him actually get out of her bed and go home.  _ Time to go, Blythe. Time to go.  _

He inhaled sharply, ready to tell her goodbye and make his escape, when she rolled to face him and spoke quietly. “Lay here with me? Just for a little while? I had something else I wanted to ask you…”

He blinked once, then did as she asked, knowing the futility of attempting to deny her. 

He stayed on top of her quilt, promising himself that it was okay - that his desire to be close to her wouldn’t cross a line if he stayed still above her blanket. Once he was settled, he looked at her face to find that she was blushing. She glanced up at him, then rolled back toward her window, turning her back to him as she scooted herself closer to his warmth. He leaned on one elbow and put his other arm over her waist, leaving a sliver of space between their bodies. 

“Gil, when we…” He waited with curiosity for her to continue, but her words continued to be pulled from her slowly. “When we… kiss… and  _ things…  _ I feel this… this  _ heat _ .” 

Her words suddenly picked up speed, and the rest came out in a tumble. “It’s  _ everywhere _ and it feels  _ so exquisitely good  _ but also… I always want  _ more.  _ Every time we are alone together like this, I just-- it’s like my body conquers my mind and all I can think about is getting  _ you  _ closer  _ to me _ . Am I…” She took a steadying breath, then looked up at him and asked quietly, “Is that... normal… do you think?” 

He couldn’t swallow - he didn’t even dare breathe for a moment too long. He felt like he might black out as his chest squeezed tight and a blazing heat engulfed him. Then he exhaled the breath he had been holding with a  _ whoosh _ that tousled her hair. He forced himself to breathe in and out, but it was about all he could do as his mind remained frozen and his limbs locked down. 

_ She wants him. _

She had just described, with both an innocence and a pinpoint accuracy that only Anne could manage simultaneously, the exact way that she makes him feel -- the way that  _ he wants her _ . This knowledge coursed through him; altered him. He had always felt a pull toward Anne, had only recently begun calling it what it is -  _ Love.  _ But, in the same way that she had apparently never considered a future of being married to him, he had never considered that she could share  _ this-- _

This  _ craving  _ to be with her - to be as close as possible, and to know it’s not enough. 

“Gil?” She rolled back to face him, her cheeks still pink, but her eyes concerned; afraid. 

“ _ Sorry _ ,” his voice cracked on the word -- actually cracked like when he was thirteen and couldn’t control the timbre of his speech. Clearing his throat quietly, he tried again. “Sorry. I just… I was surprised.” 

Her face fell, shame making her close her eyes and angle her head away from him.

“Wait… no. Not  _ surprised _ . I just mean to say -- I feel it too, Anne. You just… you said it so perfectly. It’s… yeah. _ Yes. _ I think that it’s normal, at least compared to how I feel… for you.” 

He leaned forward on his elbow and pulled her close to him, then laid back so her cheek came to rest against his chest, both of his arms wrapping around her. They stayed that way for a moment before she said, so quietly he almost didn’t hear her, “I feel it now. Like I could… like I can’t get close enough. Like I want so much  _ more _ .” 

“Anne,” there was pain in his voice now. “I feel it, too. And I think I need to say goodnight now.” 

“No!” her response was immediate - worming her way closer to him, wrapping her arms around his middle. 

“No, stay,” she implored more demurely. “Stay, I’ll be very,  _ very  _ still. And good.” 

He could hear the teasing smile in her voice, and he smiled, too. Smiled because it’s all he could do - because if he didn’t he just might roll on top of her and start kissing her because it was all his fevered mind could think about. 

She leaned up to look into his eyes, said quietly, “It’s nice to know. That it’s not just me, I mean.” Then she leaned up to kiss him chastely on the lips, laid back down, and yawned hugely once more. 

Snuggling down into him, as she had into her pillow earlier, she murmured, “Truly, I believe that I’m beginning to understand why some people get married so young.” 

Another lightning bolt of shock and lust coursed through his body, but before he could react she was speaking again. “Alright, about that bedtime story?”

His brain was still stuttering, needing a moment to catch up. Instead of preparing himself to put her to bed with a story and a kiss, he was gripped by a desperate desire to dive under her blanket and peel off her nightgown and do  terrible,  _ wonderful  _ things to her. 

But then she sighed softly, sweetly, and he looked down to find her eyes closed peacefully, her full, pink lips open slightly as she began breathing in a measured way, her arms still wound around him, and Gilbert was returned to himself. He felt his heart throb with love and protectiveness for her, reminding himself how infinitely precious she was to him. 

How much forever they had ahead of them. 

So he took a deep breath, leaned his head back, closed his eyes, and began, his fingers raking leisurely through her curls. 

“Once upon a time there was a beautiful, formidable goddess. She had brilliant hair the color of a raging fire; deep, cool, blue eyes that mimicked a summer sky; and a constellation of sun-kissed freckles across her cheeks. She ruled over everything on heaven and earth, and with a single look could bring all humanity to its knees. And then, one day, a boy - a mere mortal with skinny legs and curious eyes - dared to address her; to  _ demand  _ her attention. Her wrath was great, but his interference was the beginning of the end for both of them, though neither of them knew it just yet... ” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU GUYZZzzzzz!
> 
> My little Christmas Break story is drawing to a close, and I am ridiculously sad about it! However... I have a bit more planned for these two. Maybe. Possibly. But I'm not sure whether I'll just add chapters here, or make a part 3!
> 
> Lots of decisions, but lots of good stuff coming up either way, if you're interested! Please let me know what you think, send me your recommendation for this story or for what I should write next! I feel a little untethered this weekend, and would love your advice/encouragement! Guide me, Kindred Spirits! Speak to me, Wise Ones! I need you! 
> 
> Whatever comes next, I hope you know that, as always, I am obsessed with all of you, and so thankful to you for reading this silliness. You're the best, and I hope this finds you well!!
> 
> xo  
> M


	14. A Thousand Suns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *****  
> It was a full ten minutes later that found Gilbert and Anne returning to the pathway of Lover’s Lane, both of them looking pink and disheveled and wearing matching grins. As they passed through the gate to Green Gables, Gilbert squeezed Anne’s hand gently in his, and turned a mischievous grin on her. “I have to say, Carrots. It’s nice to have finally found a way that I can get you to see my side of things without an argument.”  
> *****

Anne awoke on Boxing Day to find her bed empty and her heart full. The events of last night were fresh in her mind, as was the lingering feeling of contentment that hummed quietly through her body as she fell asleep. She wasn’t sure what she was happier about - the way the boy with dark eyes and a huge heart loved her like she loved him, or the assurance she had that nothing need change between them just yet; that she could take her time loving him and being loved by him. Whatever its origin, the feeling was both electric and soothing at once, and Anne remained still and let it wash over her as the morning rays of the sun fell upon her where she lay. 

When the urge to rise and greet the day grew too strong to resist, Anne rose and walked toward her wardrobe, where she found her dress laying haphazardly on top of the furniture. Color rose in her cheeks as she remembered her brashness from the night before - the insisting and undressing and inviting - as well as the conversation she had instigated with Gilbert where she named her craving for his closeness. She thought, briefly, about diving back into bed and staying there, when her eye caught on a loose piece of paper weighed down by a small rock from the collection she kept on her desk. 

She approached it slowly, still feeling the heat of her embarrassment as she recalled the sure way she had spoken to Gilbert about her feelings. When she retrieved the paper, however, she felt a different kind of warmth spread through her - a slow infusion of heat and desire and anticipation and that singular, unnameable feeling she had whenever Gilbert looked at her like she was made out of stardust and he couldn’t believe she was real and his. She smiled to herself as she read:

Dear Goddess, 

Leaving your bed is the hardest thing I have ever had to do. 

I am about to slip out of the door, sneak through the hallway, down the creaking stairs, and out the way I came again, feeling both like the victor of some great prize and the lowly rat that all of Avonlea would make me out to be, should anyone be made aware of my whereabouts tonight. I’m not sure how you convinced me to come here - to take down your hair and lay in your bed and hold you while you slept. 

Oh wait, I recall it now. You were able to convince me because my will needed only the merest nudge to throw all thoughts of honor and propriety out of the window. Truly, how can you claim to love such a weak-willed wastrel, my Anne? 

Alas, it is too late for you now, darling Dryad, as I do believe that - as I read in the  _ Ladies Book of Etiquette and Politeness _ \- once a boy has seen you in your nightgown then you may never send him away -- and here I might remind you that I have seen you thus arrayed not once, but twice now! So, you see, you mustn’t worry about marriage proposals from me when we are already thus entangled one with another. 

Truly, Anne, leaving your bed just now was soul-bruisingly difficult. I only managed it once I forced myself to envision being caught by Matthew trying to creep out of your room just as dawn crested the horizon. Farmers are  _ notoriously _ early risers, after all - though I am not sure about their mid-winter sleeping habits. 

I suppose I should bid you goodnight (or gooday as I hope you will continue to sleep through this dark, cold night and well into tomorrow in the same attitude that you are now at repose - with your cheek resting on your open hand, your pink lips parted, softly breathing in and out, occasionally sighing - which I hope is a sign that you are dreaming pleasant dreams… perhaps dreams involving a certain soon-to-be doctor?), but I can’t quite seem to force myself to stand up and walk away. I believe I would be content to stay in this room and watch you sleep for hours.    
  


Possibly forever. 

I know that I threatened, once upon a time, to kiss you in this very room, but the fact that I have - that you invited me (against my will! ...is what I will tell anyone who asks should I be apprehended in my daring escape) to come here with you and lay next to you and hold you in my arms… 

Would you laugh if I told you that I have pinched myself more than once tonight? I have the bruise to prove it (I will show you tomorrow, darling. Perhaps I have even decided to throw caution to the wind and have stayed the night through and am showing you now?) just to be sure this is all real, and not some sort of lucid dream brought on by a bout with Typhoid.

Alright, enough. I have whiled away another hour here with you, and the temptation to crawl back into your bed - to curl my body around yours and bury my face in your soft, auburn hair and feel the warmth of your back against my chest and hold the slow and steady rhythm of your heartbeat against my palm - is so powerful that it feels like physical pain to know that I am not going to give in to my desires.

Not tonight. 

I love you, Carrots. And I can’t wait to tell you that (again) in person. And I can’t wait until I can touch you and look at you and listen to you again (any minute now, if you are reading this by morning light). And I absolutely cannot wait until the day that I can stay - stay without fear or guilt or the judgment of others. Stay and stay and stay. 

Burn this letter (lest someone else happen upon it and bear witness to the way I burn for you), 

Gil

Anne’s wide grin lasted all of the way through breakfast, and the letter she had carefully folded was now tucked into her corset, resting just above her heart. When a knock sounded at the door, Anne jumped up from her seat at the table like she had been stuck with a hot poker. 

Within a minute, she had dressed in her winter things and was waving goodbye to Marilla, her arm in Gilbert’s. As they wended their way through Lover’s Lane on Boxing Day, Gilbert didn’t allow himself to waste time in broaching the subject of their last evening together, a sizable lump in his throat as he began. 

“Anne, about last night…” 

She had turned a contented smile on him, feeling her heart beat a loud thump against his beautiful words tucked against her breast, and he nearly lost his nerve. 

“I… I think we should…” here a loud swallow, then a deep breath. “Would you mind if we kept our visits to daylight hours from here on out?” 

Gilbert peeked through his eyelashes at Anne’s face. She was no longer smiling at him, and, as she trained her eyes on the ground, her cheeks grew red. 

“I don’t mean to say that I didn’t…  _ enjoy _ last night. Because I  _ did.  _ I only wish I had the words to tell you  _ how very much _ I did.” 

Anne was looking at him again, and she pressed a hand to her heart lightly as she said, “I believe you found the perfect words last night. That letter… It may be my favorite yet.” She smiled timidly at him, her cheeks impossibly reddening further. 

Gilbert stopped walking, taking both of her hands in his. “I meant every word, Anne. Some of them-- I think I meant it all so much that it  _ scares  _ me. I can’t… Anne, I  _ won’t _ do anything that could hurt you or frighten you... or make you unhappy in  _ any  _ way. Which means that we… that I can’t do something like that again. After last night, I’m not sure I trust myself to be with you like that.” 

Anne shook her head, ready to argue before he had finished. “Gilbert Blythe, I trust you  _ implicitly _ ! You are nothing like that… like  _ Royal Gardner _ .” She spit the name like it was poison on her tongue. “You could never hurt me - never do anything that  _ I  _ didn’t want to do first. Last night, before the dance… I’m so sorry about that. I was scared and so glad you were there and I just  _ needed _ you so badly. It was me, though.  _ My  _ need for you - I got out of hand. You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“ _ I didn’t do anything wrong _ ?! Anne, I was  _ on top  _ of you, and if the Barrys hadn’t come…” Gilbert shook his head once, hard, like he was trying to dislodge a thought that was stuck tight, then took another deep breath and looked into Anne’s clear blue eyes, willing her to understand. “Listen, I don’t have any regrets. Perhaps I should, but,  _ truly _ , I don’t. And I want to keep it that way. The way that I love you… Anne, your trust is the most precious thing I have ever been given. I will never, ever do anything to lose it. Which means that, while I’m not sure I can become the most proper suitor that has ever been, then at least I can stop putting us both in situations that could...  _ compromise _ ... us both.” 

Anne held his gaze for a long, silent moment when he had finished. Then she took a breath that lifted her shoulders, forced her lips into a slight smile, and nodded her head. “If that’s how you feel, then, of course. We can--” 

Suddenly her back was against a tree just off of the path they had been walking, and Gilbert’s body had her pressed against the frozen trunk, his lips hot and urgent against hers. He tilted his head, deepening their kiss and causing heat to flare in the pit of Anne’s stomach so suddenly and fiercely that she felt faint. Gilbert’s lips broke apart from hers just as suddenly as they had arrived, but he didn’t pull away, and his hands moved from her hips to wind around her lower back, his body still flush against hers. 

His breath was ragged as he whispered against her lips, “How I  _ feel _ is something I could never describe in words alone, Anne. I would show you if I could - if it wouldn’t be utterly ruinous for us both for me to do so. Every moment that my arms aren’t around you feels wasted. I feel so much for you that it scares me, and it’s hard enough to keep you safe from the force of my feelings in broad daylight.” 

Gilbert leaned forward to kiss her again - less frenzied this time. His lips moved slowly against hers, and when she opened her mouth he licked her bottom lip slowly, and then bit it softly. Anne moaned quietly against his mouth, her breath hitching and her pulse racing. She had both palms against his chest, her hands curled into fists around the front of his shirt, holding him against her with all of her strength. 

Gilbert pulled back slightly again -- just far enough that he could see her brilliant eyes, heavy-lidded and full of lust - an exact mirror of his own dark eyes at the moment -- while their bodies stayed pressed close together. 

“I have no regrets. I want to keep it that way. I want the next time I have you in bed to be when I can call you my wife - when I can keep you there for as long as I want. Which, by the way, is a  _ scandalously _ long time.” He grinned cheekily against her lips. “Until then, I think we should try to stay on our feet when we are together.” He pressed his hips into hers and nudged her nose softly with his. “Does that sound agreeable, Dryad?” 

Anne tried to say  _ yes _ or nod or think at all, but all she could do was stand there, panting and staring into his eyes like he was firelight and she was a moth. He kept his eyes on hers as he leaned forward slightly and brushed his mouth against her bottom lip. 

“I promise that my desire not to spend more time in your bedroom has  _ nothing _ to do with my not wanting to be there…” His voice was soft and teasing, but the heat in his eyes underscored the meaning of his words, and Anne shivered against him. “Are you agreeable to my proposal?” He let his words hang in the air a moment, still grinning, then continued, “...of our keeping visiting hours to a timetable that Mrs. Rachel Lynde would approve of, that is?” 

Anne closed her eyes and her lips, then gulped quietly and nodded her head. “I think I understand your desire… for keeping visiting hours.” Her voice came out hoarse, and she squeezed her eyes more tightly shut for a moment. Gilbert’s soft laugh fell against her face, and caused goosebumps to appear on Anne’s neck. 

He was so close that his attention was immediately drawn to the little bumps raised across that skin, and he quickly buried his face in between her neck and the fabric of the scarf looped loosely around it, kissing from the neckline of her dress up to her jaw. Anne’s knees quaked, and she leaned her head away to give him better access. 

_____

It was a full ten minutes later that found Gilbert and Anne returning to the pathway of Lover’s Lane, both of them looking pink and disheveled and wearing matching grins. As they passed through the gate to Green Gables, Gilbert squeezed Anne’s hand gently in his, and turned a mischievous grin on her. “I have to say, Carrots. It’s nice to have finally found a way that I can get you to see my side of things without an argument.” 

_____

The next week passed in a daze of wintry walks, fireside chats, boisterous laughter, visits with friends, and stolen kisses. Anne and Gilbert found every excuse to spend their days together, though neither gave in to the temptation of midnight meetups. But as the end of their holiday break grew near, their hearts grew heavier; their goodnight kisses, longer. They knew that they both would wind up exactly where they needed to be - at school, working toward their dreams, thousands of kilometers apart. 

Knowing the reason for the separation didn’t make it any easier, and on the last night in Avonlea Gilbert found himself pacing in his bedroom well after dinner. Just when he had decided to put on his coat and go for a walk ( _ To nowhere in particular,  _ he promised himself.  _ Just to get some fresh air _ ), there came a knock on his door. 

“Blythe, can I come in?” Bash’s head poked through his door before he could move to answer, and he didn’t seem surprised to find Gilbert standing just behind the door. 

“Sure,” Gilbert ran an errant hand through his hair. “Is everything okay?” 

“Of course. Just wanted to come and see if I could help you pack up anythin’. Or maybe help settle your mind with whatever you’re worryin’ over up here. Muriel and I thought you would wear a hole straight through the ceiling’ with all of the pacin’ you been doin’ up here.” 

Gilbert looked chagrined, but was quick to gather his wits for once. “ _ Muriel _ , is it? And is  _ Muriel _ still downstairs waiting for you? Or did your  _ friendly visit _ just wrap up?” He waggled his eyebrows at his brother suggestively, and Sebastian looked flummoxed for a brief moment. 

Gilbert took a step backward and sat down on the edge of the bed, giving Bash room to come in. He closed the door behind himself and sat down on the sole chair in the room. 

Side-stepping Gilbert’s jibe entirely, Bash leaned forward and asked, “So, what’s eatin’ you?” 

Gilbert’s shoulders slumped slightly. “Nothing. It’s nothing. I just…” he heaved a heavy sigh, then looked up at Bash. “It’s just hard, going back.”

Sebastian didn’t say anything, but he leaned back in his chair and folded his arms as though he was appraising Gilbert. After another moment, Gilbert continued. 

“I really love medical school, but the way I miss home when I’m gone… It’s hard to face another eighteen weeks of class and tests and papers and labs when I’m leaving so much behind. I’ve been trying to do what you asked - to live more in the moment - but tonight eighteen weeks feels a bit like a life-sentence.” Gilbert chuckled humorlessly, gripping his hands together and staring at his knuckles as they turned white from the strain. 

Another silent moment passed before Gilbert began to back-track, “It’s fine. It’s good. I’m just being… It will be fine.” 

“I get it, Blythe.” Gilbert found a serious expression on Sebastian’s face as he looked up at him. “We…  _ I  _ miss you when you’re gone, and I have Delly and Hazel and Elijah and Mur-- a few good friends around. You made any good friends around that school of yours? Or have you been too busy with your nose in a book, probably driving the other students crazy, wanderin’ around and singin’ to yourself about kissin’ girls, no doubt?” 

Gilbert grinned at his brother, but after a moment he hung his head once more and admitted quietly, “It’s not friends I’m hurting for while I’m gone, Bash. It’s  _ family _ .” 

Bash nodded to himself, then quietly stood up and went to sit by Gilbert on the bed, throwing an arm around him and pulling him into his shoulder. “I know, Blythe. I remember the feeling - how all alone I felt until this white boy got on the ship and started causin’ trouble…” 

They both chuckled at the memory, then sat quietly for a long moment, soaking in the comfort of their bond of brotherhood. When Bash gave Gilbert’s shoulders a tight squeeze, he felt the tension leave them. Gilbert looked up to meet Bash’s eyes as his brother said, “Go on and learn all that school can give you, Blythe. Home will be here waitin’ for you when you’re done.” 

Gilbert’s throat constricted, so instead of responding he smiled tightly at his big brother, eyes shining. “Thanks, Bash.”

After a moment, Bash moved to leave. When his hand landed on the doorknob Gilbert spoke. 

“Home will be here, but…” Bash turned in time to watch a wicked smile spread across Gilbert’s face. “...will  _ Muriel _ still be making nightly calls when I’m done?” 

Bash tried to swallow his smile as Gilbert laughed at his own joke, but he couldn’t hold out. Shaking his head, he tried for a stern tone of voice at least. “ _ Goodnight _ , Blythe.” 

_____

Anne and Gilbert had already survived a loud, slightly tearful scene at the Bright River platform as Marilla, Matthew, Bash, Hazel, Delly, and Elijah had converged on the station to see them off. Gilbert needed an extra day to travel all of the way to Toronto, and Anne had decided to go with him, wanting to soak up every last second before they were parted. She was also pleased to think of being the first to return to Blackmore House, as she hoped for a quiet tete-a-tete with Lilly before the house was full of girls once more. 

They spent their hour together on the train in light-hearted conversation - recalling the happy moments of their trip home, Gilbert speculating playfully over how long it would take for Hazel to get Marilla laughing again, as she and Anne had shared a particularly teary goodbye. Anne tried to make herself stop the steady stream of cheerful, inconsequential babbling coming from her mouth, and instead say something meaningful, but she found she couldn’t. She knew that the only words that were running through her mind as she chattered trivially were not worthy of being shared:  _ You should stay. I could transfer. Don’t go. I’m going to miss you. _

Every time she forced a deep breath, determined at least to say something real and meaningful, even if it threw cold water over their last moments together, she lost her nerve entirely, instead bringing up the new tobacco-stripe quilt Mrs. Lynde had forced her to borrow (though she already had two in her boarding house bedroom), or the new way Prissy Andrews had worn her hair at the New Year’s Dance. 

Finally, as the train began to slow, Anne’s eyes had grown wide and shiny, and she stared into Gilbert’s as though she was taking a last, long drink of water before heading out into the desert. Her heart gave a painful squeeze, and she bit down hard on her bottom lip, willing herself not to cry. Gilbert tried to smile at her, but didn’t quite succeed, so he seemed to settle for squeezing her hands tightly in his, which caused her heart to constrict once more. 

Anne loved a good story of loss and romantic pining more than anyone else she knew, but somehow, now that it was  _ her _ pining heart and  _ her _ lost love, she found she had no taste for the  _ romance _ of it all.

Spending the last couple of weeks with Gilbert - feeling his love for her up close - had rearranged all of her notions of  _ the romantic ideal _ , and, even with her imagination at hand, Anne wasn’t sure she could face what would come next. 

_____

When the train stopped, Gilbert left his satchel behind and helped Anne carry her bag off of the train and onto the platform. He knew they only had a few minutes before the train would be loaded and on its way west, - a few minutes to convey to her all that he was feeling, but couldn’t quite put into words on the crowded train - but as he turned to face her, he found tears falling thick and fast down her cheeks. Gilbert quickly set down her bags and reached out for her hands once more. 

“Hey.  _ Hey _ , it’s okay. Oh, Anne. Please don’t cry.” Feeling awkward and helpless and utterly miserable, Gilbert quickly released Anne’s hands and lowered his head until he could get a good look at her face, then removed his gloves and reached out to cup her cheeks, wiping at her tears with his thumbs. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m crying. It’s fine - I’m fine. It’s just… This has been so  _ wonderful _ .” Her voice broke over the last sentence, and her face broke with it, her eyes squeezing shut and her chin quivering. 

“Oh, my girl…” Gilbert pulled her close to him. She continued trying to apologize against his shoulder, and Gilbert only caught the occasional word. 

_ Sorry… silly… don’t know why… I’m fine… _

He buried his face in the soft, curling hair around her shoulders, and as he breathed her in, he felt his own heart crack.  _ I’m going to miss this _ \- the thought struck his chest with the brute force of a charging bull. 

He tried to break through the sudden, breathless devastation to words of comfort or reassurance that he could share with Anne, but nothing came to him. Instead, the same brutal thoughts cycled through his mind over and over.  _ What am I doing? How can I leave her? I’m going to miss this. I’m going to miss this.  _

Gilbert had just decided to open his mouth and say the thoughts out loud, if for no other reason than that maybe Anne would know what to do - with his thoughts, with his doubts, with  _ him _ . She always knew what he should do. 

But the loud, shrill whistle of the train behind him beat him to it, and he felt Anne’s arms release him long before he was ready to let go. 

“Anne, I--” His voice was rough, and his hands shook as they brushed down the length of her arms. 

“ _ Oh _ !” Anne’s face was still tear-stained, but her eyes and mouth had popped wide suddenly, startling Gilbert into silence once more. “I almost forgot! Here,” she reached into her coat pocket, then pulled out a small white envelope and pressed it into his chest. “I wrote you this.” 

She gave him a small, watery smile. He could see the effort behind the smile, and it caused a sharp stabbing pain in his chest. 

“Something for you to read on the train.” She leaned up on tip-toe then, kissing him lightly on the cheek. “I’ll see you soon.” Her voice shook only the smallest amount, and he wondered at this small, perfect girl at his fingertips -- at how much she had lost - how much she had never really been given in the first place - and at how easily and entirely she had always and would always have his heart. 

Before he could pause to think about it, he pulled her close to him, leaned her back in his arms, and kissed her fiercely on her shocked, slightly open lips. 

“See you soon, Carrots.” He smiled down at her, as he still held her in his arms, then leaned in to kiss her, softly, once more before gently releasing her and running to catch his train. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiiiiiii i know it's been a full 9 days since my last update, and i'm probably dead to most of you by now, but I just want you to know that i love you and i'm sorry and i didn't mean to hurt you. 
> 
> this is the last update on this leg of this story.
> 
> but
> 
> part three is on its way! it will have more letters, more rendezvous, and more than one surprise for all of you lovely Anne-girls. thank you for sharing your wonderfulness with me - especially to all of my ride-or-die weekly comment-leavers - you know who you are. i love you to pieces. 
> 
> please let me know what you think! unless you're mad at me for this long-time-coming update! 😬😘💕💕💕
> 
> also, please come say hey to me on Tumblr or Twitter (@uwontfeelathing) if you’re into that sort of thing. ilyasm!


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